


Maybe It's You

by hpwlwbb, likehandlingroses, Showknight, WhyTFNot



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: (we do NOT demonize Harry in this household though so do not worry about that), Coming Out, F/F, Homophobia, M/M, Sex, broken up: ginny/harry, difficult family relationships, minor pairing: angelina/george, minor pairing: dean/seamus, minor pairing: ernie/justin, minor pairing: lavender/parvati
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-21
Updated: 2019-06-21
Packaged: 2020-03-29 23:47:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 30,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19030411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hpwlwbb/pseuds/hpwlwbb, https://archiveofourown.org/users/likehandlingroses/pseuds/likehandlingroses, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Showknight/pseuds/Showknight, https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhyTFNot/pseuds/WhyTFNot
Summary: Ginny and Luna haven’t spoken much since Ginny abruptly left Harry and separated herself from most of her old life. Luna is busy working in Diagon Alley, eager to earn enough money to move out of her father’s house and see the world. Ginny--fresh off a suspension from the Holyhead Harpies--has returned home and is dissatisfied with having to take two steps back in her life. She asks Percy if she can stay in the spare room in his and Oliver’s flat. The trouble is, he’s already offered it to Luna…





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> First of all, thank you SO MUCH to nillegible and Hippo Crates for your work in beta-ing my story at different stages. Thank you for letting me know what was working (and what needed work). I appreciate it so much; thank you for your insight and encouragement. 
> 
> Also, thank you to the mods for all the work they’ve done for this event! I have enjoyed writing (and actually finishing!) a long fic for a pairing I have grown to love so much. 
> 
> Lastly: thank you to my artists for being amazing! So excited for you guys to see what they’ve done. :)
> 
>  **Artists' Mediums/Notes:**  
> [showknight](https://showknight.tumblr.com/) (tumblr) medium: digital art  
> [ WhyTFnot ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhyTFNot/pseuds/WhyTFNot/) (AO3) | [tonftyhw](https://tonftyhw.tumblr.com/) (tumblr) medium: digital medium  
> [ nixhydr](https://nixhydr.tumblr.com/) (tumblr) medium: digital medium done by Paint Tool SAI

“Mum?”

The Burrow looked so much bigger, now that most everyone had left. Oh, it would fill again for family dinners or holidays. But if you dropped in on an average Tuesday, the house felt almost hollow. The bedrooms, worn from decades of constant use, now only saw occupants a few times a year and were kept from more than a thin layer of dust by Mum’s cleaning efforts alone.

“But of course, we’re keeping this house,” she always said. “What would we do with somewhere smaller? Imagine Christmas...no, our family will always need somewhere nice and big to come back to.”

Nice and big. And wild and messy and falling apart and wonderful. What other family could ever live there, could ever understand what it meant?

In spite of the circumstances, Ginny felt only relief as she heard the sound of clattering pans coming from the kitchen.

“Ginny? Is that you?”

Ginny entered the kitchen eagerly, but stopped short when she saw what was on the table: yesterday’s edition of _The Daily Prophet_ , opened to the sports section. She stepped forward to grip the back of an empty chair, staring at the photograph in front of her.

Mona Wonckerson’s nose really _had_ caved in without a fight. Ginny bit back the smile from her lips.

“A fine thing to open the paper and see!” Mum said, chopping up potatoes with a dangerous vigor. “My daughter, _mauling_ another woman. A full-color photograph!”

“She deserved it,” Ginny said.

Mum sighed.

“Well, now _you’re_ the one who’s out of a job, so it seems to me that you’d have been better served handing out your just desserts in a manner that didn’t involve a public brawl.”

“I didn’t lose my job,” Ginny said. “I’m suspended until the postseason.”

Mum glared at her, eyebrows raised.

“With pay?”

“Well...no. But that’s only because I’m technically a reserve still!” Ginny added, as though that changed anything.

“Making you _technically_ without a job for the next five months, yes?” Mum hadn’t yet stopped making dinner, which Ginny supposed was a good sign. When she was mad—really mad—you were the only person in the world, and she was getting good and ready to pounce. This was just Mum fussing.

Fussing didn’t usually bother Ginny; the only trouble was when Mum’s fussing opened up doors that Ginny would really rather keep closed...

“Bill’s putting me at a desk job in Gringotts,” Ginny said, shrugging off her anxieties. “It’s all settled. I didn’t even write you until I knew for sure there was something for me back here. I’d stay with him, but they have Victoire, now, so there’s not much room.”

Mum stopped and turned to her, eyes wide.

“Well, you...of course, your father and I are happy to have you here,” she said, looking abashed. “That’s the last thing I’m worried about, actually—”

“—I’m going to take my things up,” Ginny interrupted. She suddenly would rather be anywhere else.

“Ginny…” Mum called after her, her voice thin and wary. Ginny closed her eyes and sighed.

“...yes?”

If Mum was going to pry, better to get it over and done with. Let her ask all the questions Ginny was dreading, so they could get to the part where everyone could just let things be.

Her coming out could never be ideal. Not after she’d broken up with Harry. That had soured things, cast every choice she made thereafter into a certain light. When she came out—whenever that was, however it happened—she wouldn’t be able to avoid tension. Not at first, anyway.

She had hoped, however, that the subject would come up with some grace, even excitement. Not because Ginny had punched another player in the nose for making what the  _Prophet_ had called “speculations about sexual proclivities.”

“Nothing,” Mum said, shaking her head. “Nothing. I’ll...your father will be home soon.”

Another time, then, Ginny thought. She headed up the stairs, feeling exhausted.

* * *

 

“Percy’s dropping by for dinner, dear. Isn’t that nice?”

They had to be kidding. But that’s how Mum and Dad were. Instead of just asking, they’d decided to reel in another sibling to get the answers they wanted. If Ginny had held onto any doubts that her parents suspected the truth, Percy’s arrival would have undone them entirely. Not only was he the appointed family inquisitor, he was also the first—and only— out Weasley sibling.

To Ginny’s immense gratitude, Percy showed far more discretion than she was used to seeing from him. He dodged the subject of why she’d come home until Mum and Dad meandered out of the room after dinner, a conspiratorial air about their movements.

“So, you’re working with Bill?” he asked delicately, swirling the wine in his glass.

“Not _with_ Bill, exactly,” Ginny said, reaching for her own glass and taking a deep sip. “Not with anyone, actually. I’m sort of in the back. It turns out I don’t have many career skills, so I’m mostly fit for putting papers away.”

Percy shrugged. “Well, you have to start somewhere.”

“I’d already started somewhere,” Ginny said shortly. “I worked really hard to get where I was with the Harpies.”

“Of course you did,” Percy stammered. “I didn’t mean...well, it’s only for a few months.”

Ginny nodded. It wasn’t Percy’s fault that any of this had happened, and she had no desire to invent a conflict with him; they’d been getting along well the past few years. He was happier now, more relaxed (by Percy’s standards, anyway). If he’d made more mistakes than anyone else, he’d also done more to mend things; each time he found out Ginny was subbing in for someone (from Oliver, no doubt), he made sure to at least send her a note wishing her luck. She’d kept all of them; it made a difference, seeing the pile getting bigger.

“Sorry they pulled you in talk to me,” she said.

“Oh, I was thinking of coming by anyway,” Percy said smoothly. “I’m all alone at the house most of the time. Oliver tries to get back between games, but of course you know how it is. The team camaraderie and all that. He can’t be Floo’ing in every night; it looks standoffish.”

But despite his even tone, she knew he was lying. Ginny was willing to bet that all of three people playing for Puddlemere United knew that Oliver and Percy were more than roommates; _that_ was why he couldn’t seem eager to come home every night, why he had to pretend he was just another player with nothing better to do than spend his nights with his teammates in cheap hotel rooms and seedy bars.

Meanwhile, when Percy attended games, he came and left like any ordinary fan, only rarely stopping for a cordial but cursory conversation with Oliver.

Did he send Oliver notes when he couldn’t be there? Or would that be treading too close to living the way everyone else took for granted?

Everyone seemed fine with lying. Pretending. And Ginny was so tired of it. She was sure, looking at Percy, that he was tired as well. All alone half the time, and for what?

Merlin, Percy and Oliver even had an extra room in their flat, just so people wouldn’t ask questions. And it sat there, empty all the time because they—

—Percy had an empty room. And—for the first time in her life—Ginny was sure he’d be easier to deal with than Mum or Dad.

“Would you mind if I stayed with you?” she blurted out. “I’d pay for the room!”

Not nearly as much as it was worth, Ginny thought. But then, she _was_ his sister.

Percy went pink.

“I’m so sorry, Ginny...I’ve just had someone else move into the spare room,” he said, looking positively mortified

Ginny sat back in her seat, deflated. “Who?”

“Luna Lovegood.”


	2. Chapter 2

All things considered, Luna’s job wasn’t anything to complain about. You didn’t get many rude or harried patrons at  _ The Muse _ . Oh, there were some neurotic customers from time to time, but that was quite a different thing. Eccentricity and rudeness could walk a fine line, but Luna felt sure that most people were the former.

The shop always had unique products coming in, and Luna’s coworkers were kind, if distant. She didn’t especially enjoy shelving boxes and sorting merchandise, but Luna couldn’t deny that her job was the only thing getting her closer to where she really wanted to be. 

The bell on the door rang, and though Luna was at the back of the store, she soon heard Percy Weasley’s voice carrying through the store. Percy, a regular customer, was especially fond of the tea leaves they carried; they were said to be particularly attuned for psychic readings. Though Luna did little more than keep the tea stocked, Percy consulted her as though she were an expert each time he entered the store. 

Or perhaps he was only making conversation. The Weasleys were good at that sort of thing. She envied them the ease with which they entered a room, the way they knew their way about, no matter who they were talking to.

“Luna!” Percy exclaimed as her turned into the aisle. “Mary told me you were back here.”

Luna managed a smile. Percy had always been kind to her. At first, she’d thought he was only doing his job as a prefect. But they were a long time out of school, now, and he still went out of his way to say hello to her...something fewer and fewer people were doing these days. 

“Oh!” Percy snatched up one of Dottie’s Divining Rods (Now available in 10 different woods for a more precise pull!). “I didn’t know you stocked these!”

“Yes, they’ve just come in,” Luna said. 

“Everyone’s talking about them…” Percy picked up both a hazel and a cherry rod, weighing them each in hand. “Do they work?”

Luna shrugged. “I suppose they do.”

She usually liked seeing people she knew at work, having someone talk to her with understanding. But after her argument with Daddy this morning...all Luna wanted was to finish with work and—

—go where? Right back home.

“Something the matter?” Percy’s voice cut through Luna’s melancholy. 

“Oh, no,” she said, not committing to the lie. “Not really.”

Percy’s eyes narrowed. “Hm.”

“It’s just difficult, waiting for things to change,” Luna admitted. 

“Waiting for what to change, exactly?”

Luna hesitated. “I promised myself I’d do everything I could to save for school, and it’s just that it’s going to take a long time.” 

“My brother Charlie studied dragons, you know,” Percy said, not missing a beat. “In Romania. And they gave him quite a bit of money to do it. I’m sure he’d be more than happy to help you find funding; there must be something available.”

“No, I don’t think so,” Luna said, going back to stocking the shelf behind her. “Not many people are interested in Norwegian trolls, you see, so the endowment’s quite small. Anyway, I don’t think Hogwarts students have much of a chance at scholarships ever since...well, Professor Hagrid is a very nice man.”

Percy’s shoulders had fallen the second Luna dismissed his suggestion. He seemed to take the rejection as a personal failure. Then, out of the corner of her eye, Luna noticed that he’d turned his head to one side and was looking at her intently. 

“And you’re staying with your father, now?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said, still staring at the shelf. There it was; Percy had been onto her from the start, and now he’d know just how selfish she was being. What sort of a daughter wasn’t endlessly grateful to a father who let her stay at home, let her follow her passions, however long it took? 

“He’s not very happy that I’d rather work here than for him,” she said, after a silence. “He says he can give me more money, that the work will be more interesting. I don’t think he understands that I have to do some things on my own.” 

There were many things her father didn’t understand. Luna would never have believed it as a child, but it seemed she uncovered more and more cracks in the facade each day. It pained her, to see him in this new, harsh light. 

If she could only leave, she thought. Leave, see things for herself, and then come back. She could forgive him, then, for being just a man. 

“I’ve just thought of something,” Percy said brightly, breaking her contemplation. “Oliver and I have an extra room. Come stay with us.”

Luna turned, wide-eyed, but Percy didn’t so much as blink in the face of her shock. 

“Oh, I couldn’t!” she said. 

“Why not? It’s not as if we ever had a mind to rent it out. It’s entirely empty, and has been since the day we moved in.”

Luna’s heart was pounding in her chest. If he really meant it, if she really could...the chance of having somewhere else to go had broken the floodgates. She wanted to leave home. She wanted to stop having to pretend she had much to say to her father. That she didn’t mind feeling alone in her own home. 

“Are you sure it’s alright?” she asked. “With Oliver, too?”

“Of course!” Percy exclaimed, before falling back on his heels. “Well...I suppose I should ask him, shouldn’t I? Still, I can’t imagine he’d mind...and anyway, what does he expect me to do when he’s gone half of the year?”

Luna, still stifling her outward enthusiasm, allowed a spring of hope to well up inside her. 

“If it’s alright with Oliver, I’d be happy to,” she said. Percy beamed. 

“It’s settled, then! I’ll write to him this afternoon; as I said, I’m sure he’ll be happy to have you. I was just telling him how—”

But Luna didn’t need to hear any more, though she nodded absentmindedly as Percy rambled on. 

If one part of  her life could change, perhaps it would jostle all the rest into motion as well. 


	3. Chapter 3

Ginny was ashamed to admit it, but she hadn’t spoken much to Luna, lately. Keeping in touch was difficult, especially when Ginny still wasn’t sure who was her friend and who was Harry’s. People always claimed they didn’t take sides, but that was the sort of thing you had to say. Pretty words didn’t stop people avoiding her gaze or looking at her as though she’d lost her mind. 

Who would break up with the Chosen One? Even Ginny hadn’t been able to give an answer right away; she couldn’t expect anyone else to understand. 

Luna might have understood. Perhaps that’s why Ginny had kept her letters short and far apart. Luna had a habit of making certain things seem easy, intuitive. But Ginny hadn’t wanted the journey to be easy; she’d wanted a fight, wanted to struggle with herself. 

And that’s what she gotten: an awakening that felt like jumping into cold, deep waters before shooting back up with a gasp and a shiver.

You couldn’t do that sort of thing with Luna. You  couldn’t do that with anyone, really, but yourself. 

Ginny wondered how on earth she was supposed to explain that to Luna, as she entered Percy’s kitchen and found Luna sitting at the table, skimming the paper. Her expression betrayed nothing but a vague puzzlement as she caught Ginny’s eye. 

“I told Ginny you were staying with us now, and she’s thrilled!” Percy said with enthusiasm, though the words were an exaggeration at best. 

In truth, Ginny didn’t know how she felt. For one thing, this meant that yet another brother only had a couch to offer her. For another, the odd companionship Percy and Luna had struck up with each other was further evidence of how distant Ginny had been with her own family and friends. 

“How are you?” Ginny said, trying to ignore Luna’s stare. 

“I’m well, thank you,” Luna replied, a shortness in her voice that made Ginny’s heart sink. She’d hurt one of her dearest friends; there was no pretending otherwise anymore. 

“That’s good,” Ginny murmured as Percy shooed her into a chair. 

“I’ll just be around the corner,” he said, picking up his keys. “Would you believe I forgot to get flour? No, no, don’t trouble yourself,” he said, waving Ginny back down as she stood up to join him. “You two catch up. I’ll be right back.” 

The door clicked shut behind him, and Ginny looked at Luna, whose head shot back down to the newspaper. 

“You really wanted to stay here?” Ginny asked.

“Why wouldn’t I?” Luna answered, looking back up at Ginny with some reluctance. “It’s much nicer than anywhere I could get on my own.”

Which is why _ I _ wanted the room, Ginny grumbled to herself. Besides, she couldn’t quite believe that someone like Luna would be happy rooming with people like Percy and Oliver. 

“It’s just...well, Percy can be...pushy,” she said. “And he doesn’t always realize it. You won’t hurt his feelings by saying no.”

“I didn’t want to say no,” Luna replied coldly. 

“Okay,” Ginny murmured, feeling her cheeks going warm. Of course, she knew Luna could be short with people; she had a sharp tongue, when pressed. Ginny had always been quite grateful to have never been on the receiving end of it. 

Not nearly grateful enough, she now knew. 

“I saw what happened,” Luna said, cutting through the silence. “Or, I saw what the paper said happened, anyway. I think that girl must have said something really terrible, for all of you to get so angry.”

“‘Course she did,” Ginny said, though she was careful to keep her tone even, her expression mild. She didn’t want to set Luna off again. 

Luna stared expectantly at her, waiting for the rest of the story. No one else had done so. Or at least, no one Ginny had expected to care. 

“She was laughing at Katie,” Ginny said. “Just saying awful things. About Leanne and...everything.”

“Because they’re lesbians?” asked Luna, slicing right through to the center of the matter in a way only she could. 

Ginny closed her eyes. They were getting to the main point of things rather more quickly than she’d expected. 

“Yeah. So I told her off, and then she had a go at me. And I wasn’t having it, so I broke her nose.” 

Luna frowned. 

“Didn’t you tell them that’s what happened?”

“The officials don’t see that as reasonable provocation,” Ginny said bitterly. “They’re just words, according to them. As if they don’t matter. Or as if we have any way of knowing that she wouldn’t do something worse, later on.”

“I suppose it’s easier to pretend things are better than they are,” Luna said. Ginny nodded, and another quiet spell fell over the room. Luna’s back was tense, rigid. Ginny felt sure Luna was waiting for her to finally pluck up the courage to start talking about something serious. 

“So, what have you been up to?” Ginny began, her tone unnaturally light. “I’m sorry, I’ve been rubbish with writing.”

Luna cocked her head, presumably at the casual way Ginny had dismissed their lack of contact.

“Oh, nothing really,” she said. “It’s been quiet here. And everyone’s busy, so I’m mostly on my own. That’s another reason I’m glad to be staying with someone else.”

Whether it was hypocritical or not, Ginny felt a rush of anger towards the rest of the world. She, at least, had an excuse. But they couldn’t all be having awakenings and personal crises. No one deserved to feel alone; least of all Luna. 

“I should have been better at keeping in touch,” Ginny said, this time not caring that her voice was steeped in emotion. 

“Well, I could always have sent more letters, if I’d wanted,” Luna said with a shrug. “Especially after what happened with Harry.”

Ginny winced. 

“Yeah.”

“He’s doing well, I think,” Luna said. “I saw him a few weeks ago, with Teddy. They came by the store.”

“That’s good,” Ginny replied, not really hearing what Luna was saying. She’d have to do it now, or she’d never find the nerve. 

“I have to tell you something.”

If Luna found this sudden transition disarming, she didn’t show it. 

“Yes?”

“I didn’t break up with Harry because I was traveling. I did it because I realized I’d decided what my life was going to be when I was ten.” Ginny paused, taking a breath. “And all this time, I’d been too afraid to ask myself if that’s really what I wanted anymore.” 

“You mean Harry?”

Ginny shook her head. 

“I mean...I don’t want to be with a man. I don’t want to love one, I don’t want to marry one...I don’t want any of it.”

Luna’s already protuberant eyes widened as Ginny spoke, her mouth slightly agape. 

“You don’t have to,” she said, and there was a sort of breathlessness in her voice. Ginny turned to meet her gaze, and Luna smiled in a way that told Ginny all was forgiven. She never had to speak of the past again. 

So why did she still feel unsettled? Ginny wondered, as she took Luna’s outstretched hand in her own, feeling a rush of affection for how small, how soft it was. In over a year, she hadn’t felt anything like how she felt sitting with Luna, knowing she was utterly understood, entirely free. 

_ Why go anywhere else? _ something inside of her whispered. 

And so, later that night, Ginny pulled Percy aside in the pantry.    
  


“I’ll take the couch, if it’s available,” she said, her heart pounding as she contemplated the possibility that Percy might say no. 

“Goodness, is it that awful being at home?” Percy remarked.

“You’re really going to ask me that?” Ginny said with a knowing look. Percy’s ears went red. 

“Fair enough. It’s yours, if you want it.”

For reasons she couldn’t quite explain, Percy’s couch felt like the only place in the world Ginny wanted to be. 

She’d hardly unpacked at the Burrow, so the longest part of moving to Percy’s was convincing Mum that she really,  _ really  _ thought it would help her to stay with her big brother. Thankfully, Mum came around (aided, no doubt, by the fact that everyone avoided telling her Ginny would be sleeping on a couch). 

For his part, Percy seemed overjoyed to have yet another person living in the house. He wasn’t built to be on his own, and Ginny could see that Oliver’s frequent absence pained him, though he acted as if  it was all just a matter of course. Though she couldn’t pretend it was her primary motivation, Ginny was glad to see him happy. 

The couch wasn’t a bad place to be, all things considered. It pulled out, and Percy had stacked so many pillows and blankets on it that Ginny wasn’t sure where exactly she was meant to fit. 

“I’ll make closet space,” he promised her, looking anxiously at the arrangement. “We can’t have you living out of your luggage.” 

But after all she’d been through the past few days, finding a place for her socks was the least of Ginny’s concerns. 

 


	4. Chapter 4

Loving Ginny had always been a solitary affair, something that was only really Luna’s concern. Other people were meant to love Ginny in a way she could reciprocate: Michael, Dean...Harry, of course.  

And that had been fine with Luna. You couldn’t expect the people you loved to always love you back just the way you wanted. Even  _ her _ mind didn’t take such flights of fancy. 

But something had happened, in Percy’s kitchen. Ginny had looked at her with eyes that understood the world more fully, and in that understanding Luna had sensed further curiosity.

Curiosity that now meant Ginny was living in the same house as Luna. 

  
Those sort of things meant something, didn’t they? 

Of course, it could be that Ginny was only staying in the house to keep her brother company. They’d been quite close, as children, and Luna was sure both of them were eager to have a close relationship again. 

Certainly, that could be one reason. 

But the way she’d looked at Luna...that was something you couldn’t explain away with brothers. That look fed Luna a kind of hope she’d never had before: that someone might love her back, in just the way she wanted. 

It was that hope which pushed Luna to ask Ginny whether she’d like to meet up for lunch, her heart thudding in her chest. 

Silly, really, to feel so many butterflies in her stomach over lunch, of all things. Every Sunday, Luna went to lunch with Mary Who Worked At the Register, and they weren’t even friends, really. Lunch was an innocent invitation, with nothing of consequence attached. 

Sure enough, Ginny didn’t react to with anything but a friendly assurance that she’d be happy to meet with Luna. Which suited Luna just fine: she wasn’t ready for things to change just yet. Not all at once.

Still, there was something wonderful about seeing Ginny striding up the road towards her—a wide grin on her face—knowing that she’d gifted some of her time to  Luna. That Ginny wanted to share a moment with just her. 

“Hey!” she called out, hurrying to meet Luna at the front of the tea shop. “Sorry, I got held up. Bill’s a real hardass of a boss...I think Mum must’ve told him to give me a rough time of it.”

“But she must know that what happened at the game wasn’t your fault,” Luna protested.

“I’m only joking,” Ginny said, and Luna felt her cheeks grow warm. “But that’s sweet of you. No, the truth is Bill’s always been like that. People get distracted by the leather jackets and earring, but I swear sometimes he’s worse than Percy…” 

“Have you been here before?” Luna asked as they approached  _ Tessie’s _ . It was a quaint tea shop, with one of the nicest patios to sit on during sunny days.

“Not in ages,” Ginny said. “I used to go when I was little—just me and my mum; she’d make it a whole day, you know. Just me and her.”

“You must have liked having days where you could get away from all your brothers.”

Ginny laughed. “It was a change of pace, that’s for sure.”

“Two?” The waitress didn’t wait for them to answer before grabbing the menus. “Outside or in?”

“Outside, I think,” Luna said, looking at Ginny for approval. Ginny nodded. 

“My mum never let us sit outside,” Ginny remarked as they sat down. “She said I spent enough time baking in the sun; I didn’t need to do it while having my tea.” 

“That’s too bad. The patio is the best spot.”

“Well,  she was only trying to protect me. I did burn like mad as a kid. And she wasn’t going to stop me from playing outside, so there went the patio.”

Silence fell as Ginny gave a glance down at the menu. Her eyes weren’t moving, and Luna suspected she was trying to think of something else to say. 

“How’s your dad?” she asked suddenly. Luna must have looked put off by the question, because Ginny immediately shook her head, blushing. “You know what? Never mind.”

She stared back down at her menu, turning redder by the second, and Luna wasn’t sure whether she should say anything. She wasn’t even sure of what she  _ would _ say. 

“I’m sorry,” Ginny blurted out. “I’m being stupid; I just haven’t talked to you in so long, and I’m not sure what you want to talk about, what you’re sick of talking about...all the things a good friend would know.”

Luna felt her stomach sink. The last thing she wanted to talk about was Ginny’s absence. It had gone on too long, and after their conversation last night, Luna knew their estrangement had caused them both pain. 

“You are a good friend,” Luna said. “And you can just ask me what I want to talk about.”

Ginny blinked, looking stunned, before breaking out into a smile.

“That’s easy enough,” she said. “So: what do you want to talk about?”

Luna considered the question. “Well, how about what I’m saving money for?”

“The trolls, you mean?” 

Luna nodded, and Ginny grinned, leaning forward. 

“Okay...tell me about the trolls.”

One of the nicest things about Ginny was that she really listened to people when they spoke. Some people found this out the hard way, after Ginny had made them pay dearly for a casual undercut or coded bit of bigotry. 

But Luna didn’t have to worry about such things; all Ginny’s listening did was give Luna the chance to be heard. 

Most people didn’t do that. Not for Luna, anyway. Even people like Harry, who were kind enough to pretend, developed a glassy eyed, vacant stare after a while. Luna knew it couldn’t be helped; she didn’t blame them. Capturing the mind was an elusive task, and everyone was entitled to find certain subjects boring.

The funny thing was, Luna hadn’t yet found a subject that bored Ginny. Her eyes were always warm and active, scanning ever so slightly, keeping their focus. She asked questions. Real, thoughtful questions, with answers that mattered. 

Perhaps she was only better at pretending than most people were, but Luna appreciated it in any case. She did her best to return the favor when the conversation turned to Ginny’s new job, to how Bill had spent nearly three hours her first day lining out the differences between human and goblin approaches to the workplace. Luna waited to see if Ginny would bring up the Harpies, but aside from some comments on individual players Ginny seemed to be friendly with, Quidditch remained off the table. It seemed her suspension was too sore of a spot.

In no time at all, the waitress came around with the bill. 

“I’ll get it,” Luna said.

“No, Luna, you’re saving—”

“—everyone’s saving for something,” Luna replied, digging through her bag for her coin purse. Her father hadn’t been especially good at teaching her social niceties, but he’d taught her one thing: the person who asked was the person to pay. In business, in friendship. In romance. 

Whatever this was, Luna felt certain that paying was the right thing to do. 

“Thanks,” Ginny said, waiting for the waitress to walk away with the money before pointing at Luna’s wrist. “That bracelet’s really nice…”

In another moment, Ginny’s fingers were brushing against Luna’s wrist as she inspected the multi-colored beadwork. 

“Did you make this one?” she asked, her hand still lingering about Luna’s wrist, apparently in no hurry to retreat to its side of the table. 

“No,” Luna said, trying to ignore the tingle going up her arm at Ginny’s touch. “It’s an old one, actually. Mum bought it on her honeymoon. Or, I suppose Daddy bought it for her...though she did like to buy her own things, so maybe not. I never asked.”

****

> Image Description: A drawing of Ginny and Luna sitting outside a restaurant called Tessie’s. Luna wears a decorated blue top and lots of jewelry, including several colorful bracelets. Ginny wears a Harpie’s t-shirt. Ginny is looking at Luna’s hand, which she holds in both of hers. Luna is watching Ginny’s face. Art by [ nixhydr](https://nixhydr.tumblr.com/).

“It’s beautiful,” Ginny said, drawing her hand back. Luna wished she could stop it moving, that she could take it firmly in her own like she had the other night. 

But there was a good deal of difference between doing that sort of thing in a kitchen during a serious talk, and doing it out in the sun after having a nice lunch. 

“Yes, she did have an eye for color.”

“Like you,” Ginny said, locking eyes with Luna, who forgot to breathe. She wasn’t sure how she managed to tell Ginny that she really ought to be getting back, but before she knew it, they were standing outside of  _ Tessie’s  _ again. 

“I’ll walk you back,” Ginny said, shading her eyes from the sun.

“But that will put you all the way across Diagon Alley.”

Ginny shrugged. “I don’t mind. I need the exercise. Besides, Bill isn’t going to notice if I’m a few minutes late”

Luna didn’t protest any further. 

They didn’t speak much on the way back, but the silence was no longer uncomfortable. They could flit in and out of the quiet without anxiety. 

Halfway to the shop, a man came barreling the other way down the pavement, carrying a large bird cage. 

“‘Scuse me,” he mumbled as he passed, nearly running into Ginny. The cage swung to one side, and the tawny owl inside gave an irritable screech. Ginny’s hand pressed against Luna’s back, steadying her as their bodies came together. She kept it there long after the man had passed. 

If they were girlfriends, Luna thought, she’d keep her hand there the whole way back. She might even reach around and take Luna by the waist. Hold her hand, maybe. And Luna wouldn’t have to wonder when she’d let go, because Ginny would always hold on until the last second, until she was forced to leave her under  _ The Muse _ ’s sign and kiss her goodbye until that evening. 

But they weren’t girlfriends, and Ginny’s hand dropped back to her side, eventually, swinging uselessly once or twice before being jammed into Ginny’s pocket. 

“Well, I’ll see you tonight, then,” she told Luna at the entrance to The Muse. 

“I’ll see you tonight. Thank you for walking me back.”

“Sure,” Ginny said, her voice stiff. “Anytime.” 

And then she was walking away, hands still in her pockets, her gait stilted, almost pained. 

Luna sighed, trying to shake off the feeling that she’d done something terribly wrong in asking Ginny to lunch, in opening a door that had always remained firmly closed. 

But then—she thought as she entered the shop, hearing the bell signaling her arrival—she hadn’t been the one to grab hold of Ginny’s hand. She also hadn’t asked Ginny to press her palm against the small of Luna’s back. 

Luna had arranged lunch, that was all. There was nothing insinuating about lunch, no expectation. If Ginny had taken the opportunity to test something out, to explore a feeling or a passing idea...that was none of Luna’s doing. 

Still. It wouldn’t hurt to ask her again, sometime. 


	5. Chapter 5

Growing up, Ginny had always assumed everyone thought women were beautiful. That everyone’s heart stopped sometimes looking at them. That when some girls smiled, it made the whole world brighter for everyone. She’d never once questioned that these were universal truths, things each and every person felt.

Most people would assume this was because of her brothers: of course, a girl growing up with six boys wouldn’t realize. Perhaps they weren’t entirely wrong. Still, there had always been differences between her own feelings and her brothers’.

There was an ease about their interest in women. A pride, even, in their feelings. Being attracted to women was a matter of course, and though none of them had ever been especially crass, they also didn’t treat the subject with much delicacy, on the whole.

Ginny didn’t understand that part of it. But she did understand when Bill radiated peace and wholeness during his wedding. She understood George’s pained shrug when Ginny asked him why he hadn’t asked Angelina to the Yule Ball. There’d been Percy’s pink cheeks when Ginny caught him kissing Penelope, and she had asked him if Penny was his girlfriend.

“Well, of course she is!” he’d said, and even in his anxiety at being caught there’d been a glint of joy in his eye.

Those things, Ginny had felt an unquestioning kinship with. So much so that she’d never wondered whether it was true for everyone. After all, Mum loved Celestina Warbeck, and that didn’t seem so different from the way Ginny loved Gwenog Jones. A reverence for women, a fascination with who they were, seemed to be a part of life. 

It had taken her years to recognize that what she was feeling wasn't something everyone felt. It took even longer for her to realize that what she felt was rooted in want. Desire. Love, even, though that part was still hazy and indistinct. 

She wished it had been different, that the awakening to what she wanted had come before the crushing realization that the life she was living could never make her happy. It would have spared many people a great deal of pain, herself being not the least among them. 

Even now, all Ginny knew of loving women had come to her either second-hand or through memory’s opaque looking glass. Katie had been a help and support, and Ginny had known in her gut that what Katie and Leanne had was closer to what she wanted than anything she’d seen before. 

But that still wasn’t the same as feeling love. Feeling it and knowing you were feeling it. Knowing you were feeling it and accepting it. Accepting it and then speaking it aloud. Speaking it aloud and being understood. 

So many steps that most people took for granted, that they learned as children. And yet here Ginny was: a grown woman not sure why she’d had the sudden desire to grab a hold of her best friend. 

A rush of affection for Luna was easy enough to explain away: she’d not been around Luna for some time, and being able to finally speak with her was bound to induce intense feelings of fondness. 

But were those feelings supposed to include an preoccupation with how pretty Luna was, how her fingers traced ideas in the air as she spoke and her skin seemed meant for the sunshine? Was it supposed to mean that Ginny wanted to hold her hand, that her stomach jumped excitedly when their skin brushed together?

Ginny somehow didn’t think that was all in the way of friendly feelings. An anxiety crept in, infecting her memory of the afternoon. Had she been cloying—intrusive, even? If she’d been a man, would it have been right to do the things she did? Could you even judge it that way?

Rather than dwell on it further, Ginny forced herself off of the couch and into the kitchen, where Percy was making dinner. He’d have something else to talk about: Percy always did.

She could tell in an instant that something was wrong. Percy’s spine was rigid as he stood over the sink, tossing potatoes from a bag into the sink. 

“What’s the matter?”

“They won,” Percy said blankly. “Against the Wasps. Twenty minutes in, and they won. A complete shut-out.”

“That’s fantastic,” Ginny said. 

“Yes, Reynolds was a superb find for Seeker…” Percy was scrubbing potatoes with such ferocity that Ginny felt sure the skin was about to come off entirely

“So why are you pulverizing those potatoes?”

Percy stopped scrubbing, taking a deep breath. 

“If the game was still going on, there’d be a reason he’s not here for dinner.”

Ginny wished she’d hadn’t asked. Percy was her brother, which meant she always wanted to help him with his problems. Unfortunately, he was her older brother, which meant she very rarely could.

“Is everything okay with Oliver?” she asked, caution in her voice. 

“Oh, the two of us are fine.” There was no mistaking the bite in his voice. “No problems to speak of. Not that we could speak to anyone about problems if we had them, of course.”

“There’s some real bastards in the league, Percy. It’s not Oliver’s—”

“—I know it isn’t his fault,” Percy interrupted, his voice rising. “But what are we supposed to do? People can’t live like this.”

Ginny didn’t know what to say that could possibly change the weight of Percy’s words, anything that could make him feel any better at all. 

“I’m really sorry,” she murmured. 

Percy took another deep breath, steeling himself. “Would you mind getting a tablecloth from the cabinet in the other room? Any one is fine.”

Ginny knew Percy well enough to let the subject drop. 

“Sure.”

As she entered the living room, a whoosh in the fireplace made her jump. Oliver’s burly figure stepped out of the green flames.

“Oliv—” 

“Shh…” Oliver held up a hand to silence Ginny. He motioned towards the kitchen, and Ginny nodded. She followed him into the kitchen, where Percy was back to cleaning potatoes. 

“Thank you, Ginny, and if you could just—oh.”

He stared at Oliver, wide-eyed. Oliver grinned. 

“Thought it’d be a shame to waste a free night.” 

Percy stared at Oliver, stunned, before throwing his arms around his neck and burying his face in Oliver’s shoulder. Oliver’s smile disappeared, a pained look replacing it as he gripped Percy. 

He’d anticipated something else, perhaps the reaction he’d received the first two or three or ten times he’d walked into the room unexpectedly. All people in love treasured the occasional novelty of suddenly being together with no plans, no preparations. 

But to live that way each day, with no end in sight? The weight of such a prospect set a gloom over the scene, and Ginny looked away, blinking back the stinging tears in her eyes. 

They deserved so much more. 

“Hey…” Oliver pulled back, still holding Percy by the shoulders. “I shut Ballinger out.”

“I know, that was in your note,” Percy said, and though he was still pale, he smiled at Oliver’s enthusiasm. 

“But did I tell you that he threw out seven shots?” Oliver said, shaking Percy slightly in excitement. “Four of them classic three-ring turnabouts? Which I told everyone was going to be the signature move this season, after the World Cup last year. You remember that?”

He released Percy and snatched up the tablecloth from Ginny, apparently seized by some manic call to action. 

“I said, the shots are going to be aggressive, they’re going to be showy, and they’re going to be hard to sight track,” he continued, tossing the tablecloth onto the table and pulling it straight. “But these new keepers think they don’t need to follow shooting trends...and now we’re looking at some of the highest scoring Chaser games in fifteen years.”

“Not when Puddlemere’s playing, though,” Percy remarked.

“Well…” Oliver stopped and considered the compliment before shrugging. “I put in the work, that’s all.”

“So, will you be in training tomorrow?” Percy asked, and though his tone was delicate, the question fell into the room with a thud. 

“No, I think I’ll stay here,” Oliver said, his tone equally casual, the answer just as profound. “Maybe do some runs at your Mum and Dad’s, if that’s alright.”

Percy beamed. “Of course it is! They’ll be thrilled as anything, they haven’t seen you in ag--well, they haven’t seen you since that match against the Cannons.”

“That long?”

“That long,” Percy repeated emphatically, rummaging through a drawer for a piece of parchment. “I’ll owl them right now…”

“They’re coming with you when we play the Harpies, aren’t they?” Oliver said. Percy nodded, dipping the end of his quill in ink. 

“Just try not to have the game last sixteen hours this time…” he teased. 

“Well, if the fans are anything like they were last time, the stadium won’t last sixteen hours!” 

Oliver basked in the joke for only a moment before turning seriously to Ginny. 

“Speaking of the Harpies...you’re keeping up on training, aren’t you?”

“Oh, I mean, I’ve…” Ginny fumbled for an answer that wouldn’t set Oliver off on another rant, knowing in her heart she’d already lost that particular battle. 

“It’s only been a couple days,” she finished lamely. Sure enough, Oliver straightened up to his full height and looked aghast.

“A couple of days is all it takes to completely undo your routines, to lose focus and momentum and strength!” he exclaimed. “These things don’t have a shelf-life, you know! They have to be used, or you lose them! And once you lose them, it’s that much harder to get them back!”

“Okay, I get the picture,” Ginny said, a laugh in her voice. “I’ll keep up with training.”

“Good,” Oliver said, falling back. “You can start tomorrow. I need a proper Chaser to block, anyway.”

“You said I wasn’t half-bad!” Percy called from the counter. 

“I lied, then, didn’t I?” Oliver replied, and Percy threw a towel at him. 

Now that Oliver was back, it seemed impossible that the house had ever managed without him. Percy was happier, conversations were easier, the house was warmer. This was where Oliver and Percy belonged, Ginny thought. The two of them...maybe more, later on. She’d never asked, but she guessed Percy would want children. If he didn’t, he’d done a good job pretending he did all those years he’d fussed over them. 

Did it keep him up at night, not knowing if it would ever happen? Not knowing if it was even possible. Ginny stared up at the ceiling after everyone had gone to bed, feeling suddenly panicked. 

Even after she felt love and understood that’s what she was feeling. Even after she accepted it and spoke it aloud and found someone who wanted to say it back...there’d be something still in the way. Something she couldn’t do anything about. 

There has to be something I can do, she thought. There’s always something.

But what?

  
  



	6. Chapter 6

Luna’s new room was a bright, cozy space, with an enthusiastic energy about it. Mum had always told her that every place had a spirit of its own, and that spirit was usually dictated by the people who spent the most time there. Though the room had never been occupied, Luna supposed Percy and Oliver’s dispositions had seeped through the walls, or perhaps hung about after one of them had come in to dust.

Either way, you could tell the room belonged to someone kind, if a bit excitable. A little  _ too _ excitable, for Luna’s taste. More than once, she had awoken in the middle of the night feeling the sudden urge to go for a run or reorganize her dresser drawers: sure signs of a spatial energy that hadn’t gotten acquainted with its newest resident. 

It would take some time to break the room in, for it to familiarize itself with Luna’s nature. Already, Luna could tell the air was flowing with less tension, and the lights were shining bluer...someday, it would be hers entirely. It would be home. 

There was something frightening about the prospect. She’d only ever had one real home. Hogwarts had been nice, but no dormitory could ever be hers. It was a place to stay, and that was all. 

But this place, shared with friends, could be a home. Especially with Ginny there…

...Luna shook her head forcefully to get the idea out of her mind. Ginny was only here for a few months. Soon, she’d back to traveling, back to her friends in the League. And maybe she’d write more often, this time. But this wasn’t their home, and the sooner she accepted that, the easier it would be when things changed again. 

Still, Luna thought. That didn’t mean there was anything wrong with enjoying the time they did have together. 

And things could always change in unexpected ways, couldn’t they?

Ginny was alone when Luna entered the kitchen. Her hands were cupped around a mug of coffee, and she looked exhausted. 

“Morning, Luna,” she said, without much enthusiasm. 

“Good morning,” Luna said. “You don’t look like you slept at all.”

“I didn’t.” Ginny took a gulp of her coffee. Luna nodded, sitting down across from her at the table. 

“I thought the couch showed signs of housing Nargles. They’ll keep you awake for ages, you know. They don’t mean to, only their antennae vibrate at a certain frequency that alters human brain patterns. The store has a spray for them: it only sedates them a little, so you can get to sleep. I can get some for you, if you’d like.”

Ginny gave a tired smile, but shook her head. “It’s not the couch. I’ve been thinking.”

“About what?”

“About Katie and Leanne. And Percy and Oliver. How difficult it is for them to...just live. And for what? Because some old wizards are afraid?”

Luna nodded. “Yes, it’s dreadful the things some people say. Someone pitched an article to Daddy once, about how all wizards had been heterosexual until we started having children with Muggles. It was quite nasty, actually. He had the writer banned from our mailing list.”

At first, Luna wondered if Ginny had even heard her. Her eyes were blearily fixed on the far wall, and it wasn’t until Luna noticed the tension in her jaw that she realized Ginny was trying to work up the energy to respond.

“It always comes back to blood supremacy, doesn’t it?” she growled, staring down at her cup. “Like every other stupid thing our society does. Haven’t they lost enough times? Aren’t they finished with it yet?”

Luna didn’t think Ginny needed any sort of agreement from her, so she stayed quiet as Ginny took a breath, closing her eyes and rubbing them with the heels of her hands. 

“It has to end. I don’t know how, but there has to be something,” Ginny murmured. “I just don’t know what it is just yet.” 

Luna perked up; of course, there was always something. And it was usually the same something. 

“Write a story on it,” she said. “Not about the politics--that’s all been done. But the people. I’ll bet you could do a whole series of articles, just on Quidditch players and their partners. And then from there, who knows?”

Ginny stared at her, wide-eyed, before breaking out into a smile. In an instant, the exhaustion in her face disappeared. 

“That’s brilliant!” she exclaimed, before falling back in her chair. “But who would print it?”

Luna shrugged. “We could do it ourselves. Daddy has a press, and that’s all you need. I could do illustrations: pictures are the most important thing, with something like this. You want readers to see the people you’re talking about. That makes them real.”

Ginny was trying not to grow too attached the idea; Luna could tell. She had (understandably) developed an air of caution about things that seemed too good to be true. Luna didn’t mind: the idea was a good one. It would work. And if Ginny needed to ask questions all day to be assured of that, Luna would be happy to answer them. 

“What about circulation?” Ginny asked. 

“I don’t think that will be a problem,” said Luna. “This is the sort of thing everyone wants to be talking about. Which means everyone will read it, so long as we make enough copies. Daddy always says some stories can find their way across the world on a napkin. I don’t know if this will be quite that compelling, but I think it’ll make its own way just fine.”

Ginny nodded, contemplating Luna’s words for a long while before giving her the sort of fierce stare only Ginny could manage. 

“You think this is the best thing to do?”

If she’d been less sure, Luna would have felt intimidated by Ginny’s gaze. But this was the world she’d been raised in, and she knew it would work. 

“If you want people to change their minds, you have to show them why they should,” she replied. “People believe what they see.”

Ginny didn’t break her stare. “And you’ll help me?” 

“Yes,” Luna said, feeling breathless. “Of course I will.” 

Ginny’s gaze softened around the edges, though the core remained just as resolute. 

“Okay, then. Let’s do it.” 

 


	7. Chapter 7

Luna had agreed to meet Ginny at The Burrow after she’d met with own father to—hopefully—secure access to Mr. Lovegood’s printing press.

“It shouldn’t be any trouble at all,” she’d told Ginny. “I’m sure Daddy will just be happy I’m doing something other than stocking shelves all day.”

However, she’d gone stiff when Ginny asked if Luna would tell him about the publication’s subject matter.

“It’s bad luck to say before it’s printed, so I don’t imagine he’ll ask,” she replied, her tone short, and Ginny had let the matter drop.

Oliver and Percy were both eager to get to The Burrow as soon as possible, though Ginny suspected they each had wildly different reasons for their enthusiasm. Oliver kept trying to corner her about how they could best coordinate their training preferences; meanwhile, Percy kept finding ways to bring up how long it had been since Oliver had been able to come along on a visit.

To outsiders, Ginny supposed it looked exhausting, both of them filling the room with parallel conversations. But that was how Percy and Oliver had always been. They didn’t seem to mind each other’s preoccupations, and they always seemed  delighted when they happened to intersect.

It would have driven most people mad, but Ginny had come to realize that there were as many ways to have a happy relationship as there were people. And in the end, Oliver and Percy each understood what the other one wanted.

Oliver flashed his most winning smile when greeting Mum and Dad, and he was an eager participant in the preliminary niceties and small talk. You’d never have known he’d come for any other reason.

After fifteen minutes and a finished cup of tea, Percy cleared his throat and sat up straighter in his chair.

“Oliver, you’d better get outside before those clouds get any worse,” he said, and Oliver practically leapt out of his seat and hurried outside, murmuring something to Ginny about lift off in ten minutes.

“A one track mind,” Percy said, shaking his head with a smile before standing up himself. “Now, if you’ll excuse me...I need to fetch my copy of Marigold Strauss’ _Magical Management for the Modern Mind_.”

Without waiting for anyone to ask why he needed the book, Percy continued:

“Strauss was the keynote at last summer’s European conference, and she’s only just come into the appreciation she deserves if you ask me,” Percy said, chest puffing out. “Several of my coworkers are tripping over themselves to read her early work, and I’ve promised them a look at my first edition.”

“Is this one of those books for forty year olds that you read when you were twelve?” Ginny asked.

“I was fourteen, actually,” Percy said, an edge creeping into his voice. “And I’m very fortunate to have a copy: her first edition was a limited run, and the current copies are missing the original foreword, which has a nasty dig at her ex-husband. Personally, I think she was quite right to remove it...pettiness is never a flattering look...but it does make my copy a bit of a collector’s item.”

“If you say so,” Ginny said. Percy chose to ignore her as he left the room.

“It’s always something,” Ginny said to Mum. “Absolutely obsessive, isn’t he?”

“Well, we know where he gets it,” Mum murmured, gesturing to Dad, who had taken Oliver’s departure as an invitation to return to his own hobby. He appeared to be elbow-deep in some sort of electric toaster reconstruction. “Three weeks and not one piece of toast.”

Ginny snorted. “I’m sure it’ll be any day now.”

“We’ll see…how are you, dear?” Mum asked, and from the way she was studying Ginny’s face, Ginny knew that the question was more than a formality.

“Everything’s going well,” she replied, trying to muster up enough enthusiasm to satisfy Mum.

“And work is good?”

Ginny shrugged. “I mean, it’s work.”

Her laugh at the end of the statement didn’t prevent Mum’s face from falling.

“Well…” she said, “it’s better than moping about. Isn’t that what we were saying yesterday, Arthur?”

Dad jumped at being addressed.

“Hmm?” he said, and Ginny could see his mind rolling back the last few seconds to bring the background conversation into focus. “Oh, yes, we were talking about that. It’s much better than moping about, I agree.”

“And where is your friend?” Mum asked. “Luna, isn’t it? I thought she was coming along.”

“She is, she’s just visiting with her dad first.”

Mum frowned.

“I thought she was still living with her father,” she said. “Wasn’t she living with him, Arthur?”

Arthur looked up from his tools again, pushing up the glasses that kept sliding down the bridge of his nose.

“Well, the last time I spoke to Xeno was a good two months ago,” he admitted.

“Was it that long ago? Well, never mind. How is she?”

“She’s doing well,” Ginny said. “She actually, uhm...she’s staying with Percy and Oliver too.”

Ginny knew in an instant she’d made a mistake.

“What?” Mum’s jaw had dropped. “What do you mean?”

She might as well rip the bandage off now that she’d gone and started the conversation.

“I mean, she got the spare room first.”

“But…” Mum stammered. “Where are _you_ sleeping?”

“Percy has a pull-out couch.”

Mum’s mouth opened and closed several times before she finally managed, in a sort of spitting hiss: “A pull-out couch?”

Ginny nodded, trying to hold back her grin. Mum looked as though Ginny had just told her she was sleeping on the streets. Her eyes flitted across the room, searching for someone to blame for this injustice. But Percy was still upstairs with Marigold Strauss, ignorant of the hippogriff Ginny had tossed him under.

“Well, I certainly thought better of...putting his little sister on a couch…” she murmured, sounding almost dazed.

“Mum, it’s fine,” Ginny insisted. “I asked him if I could stay there. It was really nice of him to let me stay at all.”

Mum stared at her in confusion for a moment before sighing.

“Well, alright. If that’s what you want, then you’re certainly free to...dear, you know you can stay here, if you want to? Your father and I aren’t angry, you know. About the fight, or—or anything. You know that?”

Her words were laden with a meaning Ginny knew she wasn’t ready to address. Not over tea, not with Oliver waiting for her to throw some shots with him, not with Percy just about ready to stumble back down the stairs with some overlarge book in his hands.

Ginny didn’t know where you had this sort of conversation, or when. But she knew it wasn’t now.

“I know, Mum. It’s just...I actually like staying with Percy. And I think he sort of needs it. With Oliver gone all the time.”

“Oh…” Mum’s eyes softened, and she rushed to embrace Ginny. “He doesn’t know how lucky he is to have such a sweet sister.”

“I’m fairly sure I’ve gotten the measure of her…” Percy said, coming into view.

“Percy!” Mum barked, her eyes narrowed. “Did you put your baby sister on a _couch_?”

Percy blanched. He wasn’t used to being the target of his mother’s ire.

“Well, I—it’s a very nice couch, you know. Quite comfortable.”

Mum stared at him, almost as shocked as Percy himself that he’d managed to upset her.

“Well, if you can stomach letting your sister—who made you cry the first time you saw her, you were so happy—sleep in your sitting room, then that is between you and your conscience.”

Percy opened his mouth and closed it a few times before locking eyes with Ginny.

“I leave for two minutes...” he sighed.

“I told her it wasn’t a problem,” Ginny protested. “It’s not my fault she’s Mum. Dad’s fine with it. Aren’t you, Dad?”

Dad didn’t look nearly so concerned as Mum did, though he seemed afraid to say so. He blinked a few times before giving a mild shrug.

“Well, I imagine you’ve slept worse places on the road,” he said.

Ginny laughed, but Mum and Percy looked more put out than ever. Percy turned to Mum with an expression that was imploring even by Percy’s standards.

“It _is_ a nice couch,” he insisted.

“Hmm...cut these carrots up, would you?” she said by way of response, though she gave Percy’s shoulder a squeeze as she passed.

“Still the favorite,” Ginny snarked, moving to the door. “I’ll be right back; I promised Oliver I’d run a few plays with him before dinner.”

“You’re the favorite!” Percy called after her, and Ginny could just hear her mother’s protests coming through the closing door as she hurried outside to meet Oliver.

 


	8. Chapter 8

Luna remembered when the rook-shaped house had stopped feeling like home. Her father had just been released from Azkaban, and Luna had rushed to tend to him. He’d been so brave, she’d thought. So brave for speaking out even when they’d tried to silence him. 

Harry, Hermione, and Ron had tried to spare her, but they couldn’t stop her father’s tongue, made loose by fever. 

“I’m so sorry,” he’d said, over and over. “I’m so sorry, tell them I’m sorry. But I had to have you back. I had to have my Luna back, don’t you see?”

He never spoke of it again once his sickness had passed. Luna wasn’t even sure he remembered his words. For a while, she’d even toyed with the idea that she’d misunderstood. Harry was still as cordial as ever, and it was impossible to tell if Hermione kept her distance because of some betrayal or because she knew she wouldn’t like whatever came out Xenophilius Lovegood’s mouth. 

It was Ron who had revealed everything, though not on purpose. He couldn’t hide the way his jaw tensed when they spoke of her father, and Luna had known without asking that he’d wronged them, somehow. 

Her father had hurt the people she cared about. Or tried to, anyway. Even now, Luna was too afraid to inquire further. She didn’t want to lose her family, the only family she had. And what if what he’d done was too terrible for her to forgive? 

The moment she’d decided to go on pretending everything was fine was the day the house started to feel foreign to her. She hadn’t realized what was happening, at first. The occasional chill or blast of melancholy was to be expected, after everything the war had taken from them. 

But it hadn’t stopped there. Soon, the very walls turned to ice, and Luna felt as though she was laboring over every word she spoke. 

Things hadn’t improved in her absence, Luna noted, turning the spare key in the lock. Her father has pressed the key into her hands when she left, insisting that she could always come back whenever she wanted to. 

His expression revealed that, really, he was wondering if she ever would. 

“Daddy?” she called out, stepping into the house. 

“Luna?” Her father’s heavy, ambling steps always made the floors creak terribly. He stood in the door frame between the foyer and the kitchen, his eyes wide. 

“How did you get in?”

Luna held up the key.

“You said to keep it.” Daddy often forgot such things.    
  
Still, he didn’t look reassured by the reminder. If anything, he looked more puzzled than before.

“I did, didn’t I?” he said, half to himself. “Well, why wouldn’t you?” 

She should have written first, Luna realized in a rush of embarrassment. Whatever her father had said, she’d made a decision upon leaving. This wasn’t her home, anymore. She couldn’t come and go in the same way as before.    
  
“How are you?” she asked, wanting to leave the key conversation behind them as quickly as possible.    
  
“Well as ever,” he murmured, still looking out of sorts by Luna’s sudden arrival. ”Was there something you forgot?”   
  
Luna knew she couldn’t ask about the printing press, not right away. 

“I was only checking in.”    
  
“Ah,” Daddy said, his eyes softening. “Well, nothing’s changed very much.”

He swept the room with his hands, and Luna noted that the only change seemed to be slightly more dust in the places she’d taken to cleaning when he forgot. She remembered a time when he’d confessed to her that he hated dusting. After that, Luna wondered whether he didn’t actually forget as often as he pretended to. 

He waved her into the kitchen and rushed to fill up a kettle. 

“Sit down, sit down,” he said, and now Luna could feel his footsteps moving more lightly across the floor. 

“I hope you’ve asked that roommate of yours if he knows anything about the magic carpet smuggling ring we’re funding through our new taxes,” he said from the sink. “I have readers asking about it left and right, but unfortunately we don’t have any sources beyond old Norbert Hedgekrow’s napkin sketch of how they’re funneling the money. And Norbie...well, you remember what happened the last time we made him the only source...I’ll still give him a fair shake. He’s been right more often than not. But readers, you know...fickle as could be.”    
  
“I don’t think Percy would know anything about that even if it were true,” Luna said mildly. “He’s very honest.” 

Daddy laughed.    
  
“So all are politicians...until they decide not to be,” he said with a grin. “But you know that.”

Luna was already tired of pretending not to mind her father’s constant dismissal of her opinions. It was strange: as a child, he’d always told her to open her mind, to be who she was no matter what the world tried to mold her to be. The older she got, the more she wondered if that was really what he wanted her to do. What he actually seemed to want was for her to agree with him, to join him in what were otherwise quite lonely pursuits for truth. 

She understood. He loved her more than anything, and her acceptance was all the validation he needed in life. 

But would it hurt him to realize that she wanted the same thing from him?

“Everyone’s different,” she said. “Percy knows better than to lose his principles over politics.”

He blinked at her in confusion, and Luna half worried he’d begin arguing the point. Thankfully, he shook his head and shrugged. 

“Well…I hope you’re right, my love. Merlin knows we could always use more principles.” 

Deciding that was quite enough small talk to handle for one day, Luna made haste towards her real reason for coming. 

“Could I use the printing press sometime?” she asked. “My friend Ginny is working on a journalism project, you see, and I promised I’d help.”

“Ah, striking out on your own in the world of printed truth” he said, rubbing his hands together and sitting beside Luna at the table. “And this friend...she’s the Weasley girl, yes?”

“Yes. She’s staying with Percy as well.”

His face fell. 

“I thought you said there was only the one spare room?”

“There is,” Luna said. “She’s on the couch. I offered to switch, but she said I got the room first so it was only fair for me to keep it. Anyway, the couch is full of Nargles.”

Daddy nodded. “Ah, they’ll need to get that fixed if someone’s sleeping on it.” 

“That’s what I told them.” 

He looked at her with a perplexed expression.

“So you...you aren’t involved with—”

“—Ginny’s my friend, that’s all,” Luna interrupted, feeling her face grow hot. 

“Oh,” he said, his eyebrows raising. “Oh, no, I meant...well, never mind.”

Luna felt her heart jump as she realized her father had been asking about Percy. She hadn’t told him about Oliver—she’d never asked Percy if she was allowed to. 

“Percy is my friend, too,” she hurried to add, though she knew the moment to save face had long passed. 

The kettle started singing, and Daddy jumped up with an urgency that told Luna he was just as eager to get out of the current conversation as she was. 

“Well, I’m glad of that,” he said. “You deserve friends. Sugar?” 

“Yes, please,” Luna said. “But about the printing press…”

“It’s yours if you need it,” Daddy said. “Only you mustn’t tell me a thing about what you’re doing. It’s bad luck for a first publication.” 

He looked at her with a wide grin, and Luna supposed he’d already half-forgotten what she’d almost revealed.

“Yes, I know.” 

 


	9. Chapter 9

“What did your dad say about the printing press?” Ginny asked the second they turned the corner to go up the stairs. Luna’s suggestion that morning had  lit a fire under Ginny. She’d managed to sit through about ten minutes of small talk after dessert before making her excuses and dragging Luna away. 

“He said we could use it,” Luna said. “He seemed quite happy that I was pursuing journalism. I thought he would be.”

“That’s fantastic...now we just have to find people to interview. Katie, of course…” Ginny pushed open her bedroom door. “We can talk in here...”

“This room hasn’t changed at all,” Luna remarked. 

“Well, my mum keeps it up,” Ginny said. “Just in case someone needs it.”

“That’s nice of her,” Luna said, a certain sadness in her voice. 

Ginny didn’t know Mr. Lovegood well, but she suspected he hadn’t kept everything dusted and ready for Luna. 

“How was your dad?” she asked, treading lightly around the words.

“Oh, fine,” Luna said, the lilt in her voice unconvincing. 

“I’ll bet it was hard, coming back after you’ve moved out,” Ginny said, pressing just a little further than she had the last time the subject came up. She and Luna were in a better place, and as her friend, she couldn’t pretend not to notice the pain in Luna’s face. 

Luna gave a noncommittal shrug. “It was a little awkward. But I think it’ll be good for both of us, living apart.”

“Sure,” Ginny agreed. “But that doesn’t mean it’s easy for either of you.”

“It would be easier if he did things just in case, like your mum does,” Luna said. “Though I suppose that’s asking him to change too much of who he is…”

“Yeah,” Ginny murmured, wandering over to her bed and sitting on the edge of it. “See, I wouldn’t mind if Mum let things change here, just a little bit. It’s not always nice, to come in and remember what it was like before—”

Ginny broke off. She hadn’t meant to speak Fred into the space. She’d finally gotten to a place where grief didn’t consume everything she did, and most days she could manage without imagining the reality that lay before her: one in which her brother never came back, no matter how much she needed him. 

The Burrow had a way of conjuring up hope that he might—after all—just be hiding behind a door, or fiddling with an invention up in his room. In clearing away the dust, Mum had kept his energy alive and vibrant within the house. Perhaps one day, Ginny would be grateful for that; for now, all it did was spark pain. 

“I’m sorry, Ginny,” Luna said, stepping forward.

“It’s one of the reasons I haven’t felt quite right here, since the war,” she continued. “This is where we grew up. All seven of us. And now all the growing up the rest of us do is without him.”

Ginny’s face crumpled. Her hands shot up to her face, wiping away the tears almost as soon as they appeared. Of all the stupid things to do...she took a deep breath, the exhale coming out as a frustrated sigh. 

“I’m fine,” she said as Luna sat down next to her. “I’m just being stupid.”

Luna looked down at her toes. 

“Sometimes it’s like the smallest things in the world make me think of Mum,” she said, slowly. “And then other times, it’ll be her birthday or wedding anniversary, and I’ll hardly notice. Missing someone is funny like that.”

She placed a warm hand on Ginny’s back, running it firmly up and down. Not in the rough, half-slapping way her teammates did after a bad play. Luna’s touch was soft and intuitive; as Ginny leaned in, Luna’s hand moved across her back. Soon, Ginny was properly in the crook of her arm. 

“I feel so selfish sometimes, because I’ll think about how he never got to see me play in the League,” Ginny said. “Like that’s the most important thing he missed out on…”

“I didn’t know Fred very well, but I expect he’d think it was important,” Luna said. 

Ginny nodded, wiping her eyes again, though less furiously than the last time. It felt safer to let go, when she was in Luna’s arms. “Merlin, I hate crying…”

“Mum always said that you should have a friendly relationship with your tears,” Luna said. “They’re yours just as much as every other part of you.” 

“I know, I know…” Ginny sighed. “My mum cries all the time. Swears by it. I know it’s good for you, I know it doesn’t make anyone weak. But I can’t change how I feel about it.”

“Oh, I suspect it just takes practice,” Luna said, smiling. 

Ginny leaned into Luna’s side teasingly. 

“You’re impossible,” she said, taking only another moment to recover before telling Luna they really ought to get started. 

“And I’m counting on you to tell me all the best ways to go about this,” she told Luna. “I don’t know the first thing.” 

Despite her dislike of tears, Ginny had to admit that she now felt lighter after shedding them. It felt easier, now, to push aside the past and look to what was ahead with clarity. 

Though, as she watched Luna animatedly describe different ways of approaching a journalistic endeavor, Ginny wasn’t sure she could give tears all the credit just yet. 

* * *

Ginny remembered the first time Katie had told her that she and Leanne were more than friends. It had been during Ginny’s fifth year, after a particularly pathetic Quidditch practice. Ginny made a joke about having to find Dean to forget about the last two hours.

“Lucky…” Katie said. “Leanne’s at Gobstones until nine.”

For reasons she couldn’t have possibly understood at the time, Ginny’s heart jumped in her chest. She must have given Katie a wild stare, for Katie had only laughed nervously. 

“Haven’t I told you? About Leanne?”

No one had ever told Ginny they were gay, just like that. There was her Uncle Gideon’s partner, Robert, who came to dinner sometimes, but he’d never talked much about it. She wouldn’t have known any details at all, if Mum hadn’t explained it to her. 

Besides, Robert had been a grown-up, a man whose life was inevitably opaque when viewed through the eyes of a child. 

Katie was a peer. A friend. Ginny hadn’t known what to do with herself for the next few days. Something in the back of her mind was whirring and buzzing like mad, and no amount of Quidditch practice or snogging Dean had stopped it. 

It was real. Loving other girls was a real option. Real girls she knew had chosen that option. 

Looking back, Ginny didn’t know how everything hadn’t come crashing down right then. Had she really not seen her feelings for what they were? Had she really told herself that they didn’t mean anything?

She must have known. Poor Dean hadn’t done anything wrong, not really. She’d only made up reasons to be upset with him; that, she’d admitted to herself right away. 

At the time, she’d believed it was because of Harry, who was finally looking at her the way she’d always hoped for. When they’d finally started seeing each other, she’d been blissfully happy. 

It was only after they’d been together for some time that Ginny began to worry that her feelings weren’t what they were supposed to be. Oh, she never stopped enjoying her time with Harry. He was a perfect fit, in so many ways. 

But she didn’t miss Harry, when he wasn’t there. Not in the way other Harpies missed their partners. 

She liked kissing him just fine. But she didn’t think about it, when she was on her own. Not once. 

At the same time, the prospect of leaving Harry terrified her. She wouldn’t find another man better than Harry; she didn’t want to. It had to be him. The thought of having to marry someone else, some strange, distant masculine figure...she couldn’t go back to being afraid of that. 

When she’d confided this all to Katie, Katie’s brow had furrowed. 

“Ginny: do you actually like men?” she’d asked, and Ginny had felt her heart jumping again. 

“Of course I do!” she said. 

Katie’s quizzical look had said it all before she even opened her mouth. “It just terrifies you to think about marrying one?” 

That had been the beginning of a long foretold end. Through it all, Katie had provided Ginny with both patience and honesty. Without her, Ginny didn’t think she’d have ever found a way through all of her feelings and fears. 

She’d probably have hit Mona Wonckerson in any case, but there was a special kind of satisfaction that came from protecting a friend that had always protected her. 

She hadn’t, however, been able to protect Katie from the consequences of the incident. Katie had gotten off a few blows of her own, and she too had earned herself a suspension. 

Perhaps it was meant to be, Ginny thought as she knocked on Katie’s door. Katie would now have plenty of time to help Luna and Ginny with their scheming. 

Luna was hanging back from the door, pretending to be interested in the navy blue hallway carpet. Despite the fact that the entire project was her idea, Luna didn’t seem especially keen on cold calling potential interviewees. 

That was fine by Ginny; she could handle the talking on her own. Still, Ginny didn’t feel right about shunting Luna off to the side until she was needed. This endeavor was theirs, and they ought to present a united front. 

Anyway, it never hurt to put Luna in front of other people. Luna so rarely made such a move on her own, perhaps out of an instinct to protect herself from ridicule. Ginny hadn’t yet found a kind way to tell her that isolation only made things worse, and so she’d stuck to gently but persistently introducing Luna to as many people as possible. 

With Ginny acting as a buffer, no one dared directly insult Luna, which meant that Luna only really noticed the people who returned after that initial meeting. And the vetting process didn’t only help Luna: Ginny had long ago decided that anyone who didn’t want to speak to Luna a second time was a waste of hers. 

Katie and Leanne’s flat was snug; whole stacks of boxes remained unpacked and shoved against walls. 

“Books,” Katie said with an apologetic gesture. “Keep meaning to get a bookcase...but where would we put it?”

“Where the boxes are now, I expect,” Luna said, her eyes measuring the space. Ginny watched Katie’s expression, holding back the urge to make a comment that would smooth things over. 

Katie looked puzzled, for a moment, at Luna’s blunt assessment. Before Ginny had gotten to well and truly panicking, Katie shrugged. 

“That’s fair, isn’t it?” she said. “Though I don’t know where we’d find one narrow enough to fit over there.” 

Ginny could tell by Luna’s frown that _ she _ could think of several places, and that she was a bit put off by the fact that Katie clearly hadn’t looked particularly hard for a solution to her problem. Before Luna could voice any of this, Ginny interjected. 

“How’s suspension treating you?” she asked. 

Katie sighed. 

“I hate it. I’m going mad without anything to do.” She eyed Ginny with a guilty expression. 

“Though as I’m still being paid, I suppose I don’t have any right to complain.”

“You really don’t!” 

“Hey, I told them it wasn’t fair to cut you off like that!” Katie said. “Here, come sit, both of you...I’ll make up some tea.” 

After a few more pleasantries, Ginny started in on explaining their project to Katie, who listened with the exact sort of excited attention Ginny had been hoping for. 

“That’s a brilliant idea,” she said once Ginny had finished. Ginny basked in the praise for only a moment before leaning back in her chair. 

“It was Luna’s idea, actually,” she admitted.

“Nice work,” Katie said, grinning at Luna. 

Luna—who had spent most of Ginny’s speech staring out the window behind Katie—looked almost alarmed at being addressed. 

“Thank you,” she replied, and Ginny could tell by the way she scooped her cup up in both of her hands that she was pleased by the compliment. 

“Anyway,” Ginny continued. “We were hoping you and Leanne would be a part of it.”

“As one of the couples, you mean?” Katie asked, a furrow starting in her brow. Ginny nodded, feeling her stomach sink. 

“You know I’d do it,” Katie said. “I’m not sure about Leanne. She was pretty shaken up about the fight. You know her, though: she’d rather I just ignore everything. And I understand it...but how long do we have to keep waiting around for everyone else to catch up? You know?”

Ginny half wanted to ask if they could wait there until Leanne showed up, so Ginny could explain everything to her. She didn’t want to leave the task with Katie in the hopes that Katie would be able to explain everything to Leanne in the right way. 

“If she has any questions…” Ginny said, letting go reluctantly. “We want people to feel comfortable participating.”

“Sure,” Katie said, nodding. “I’ll tell her. I’ll do what I can, Ginny.” 

Try as she might to feel comforted by the words, Ginny felt only a kind of sadness creeping up on her as they left Katie’s flat. Handing off control was the right thing to do: Katie and Leanne had every right to decide on their own, without any pressure, whether they wanted to do the piece. 

The trouble was, Ginny had never been very good at handing off control, no matter how justified the transfer. 

“Thanks for coming with me,” she said to Luna. 

“Of course,” Luna said. “I like Katie.”

“She’s great,” Ginny agreed. She hesitated before continuing. “I’m just worried about Leanne wanting to do it. Katie made it sound like it might be too much for her.”

Luna shook her head. 

“She was just making sure Leanne would feel safe, that’s all. It was sweet of her, but Leanne might not be as afraid as Katie thinks she is.” 

Ginny nodded, noting the spring in Luna’s step.

She was probably right. 

 

 


	10. Chapter 10

Their goal was to find seven players. A whole team. A lucky number. Seven players, plus potential partners, would provide plenty of perspective and insight without being overwhelming.

On paper, it didn’t seem like a daunting task. However, Ginny and Luna’s search revealed that most players wanted nothing to do with treading on such unfamiliar ground. They could have interviewed nearly two dozen players, had they agreed to a condition of anonymity.

Luna understood their concerns, but she and Ginny agreed that anonymous faces would spoil the entire point of the project. They told the players so, as graciously as she could manage. From there, most players were forced to decline.

Still, they managed to snag Felix Arquette, a Beater for the Chudley Cannons. He was seeing Maxwell Barker, who was a reserve for the Tornados, giving them two players in one sweep. Katie had written saying Leanne had agreed, and Ginny had successfully convinced three other women—two of them Harpies—to interview.

“That's all seven, then!” Luna said.

“No, we’re still one short,” Ginny said. She looked at Luna, biting her lip. “We’ll have to ask Oliver.”

Luna hadn’t asked Ginny why Oliver had been off the table until now, but she guessed it was because Ginny needed to have done most of it on her own before presenting the idea to Percy. The trouble with Percy was that he tended to swallow up whatever you let him touch. He didn’t mean anything by it, but Luna felt sure Ginny wanted to avoid giving him too many unknowns to work with.

Oliver had only one question after Ginny presented the idea to him:

“Did you talk to Percy about it?”

“Well, he’s not the player,” Ginny said.

“Everyone knows we live together; if he’s not ready to tell the whole world, I can’t go around screaming it from the rooftops, can I?”

Ginny was getting better at hiding her disappointment when people didn’t jump at their idea. Rather than argue the point, she took a breath and asked:

“So, if he was okay with it, would you do it?”

“Of course,” Oliver said without hesitation. “It’s the right thing to do. I’m tired of hiding. We all are. It’s about time someone did something about it.”

 

* * *

 

Ginny seemed convinced Percy would agree to doing the piece.

“He'll swing for any excuse to talk himself,” she told Luna.

Privately, Luna had doubts. Percy wasn’t one to throw his public image to the hands of fate.

Sure enough, Percy paled as Ginny explained what they were planning to do, though he feigned a neutral expression.

“What do you think?” Ginny finished.

“Of course, it’s a clever idea,” Percy stalled. “The press is always the first way to get anyone to care about anything. But are you certain you can find enough people willing to go public?”

“We already have,” Ginny said, grinning.

“Have you?” Percy said breathlessly.

“Well...we will if Oliver agrees,” Ginny said. “He said he would, only he had to make sure you were okay with it, first.”

Percy blinked.

“Did he? Well, that’s...of course he should be a part of it. He’s right here, isn’t he? What could be more convenient?”

Ginny didn’t seem to notice that her brother looked ill. She was caught up in the excitement of officially having her seven players signed on.

“Fantastic! You and Oliver just need to work out when you’re both available, and then we can set something up! I’m thinking we can do some portraits of them in here, don’t you think, Luna?”

Luna played along with Ginny’s planning, hoping she’d find an opportunity to broach the subject of Percy’s obvious anxieties. But as the day wore on, Luna realized she was incapable of intruding on Ginny’s buoyancy. Her tentative steps towards a more serious conversation were ineffective, and Luna felt sure that a firmer stomp would do more harm than good.

She’d have to start with Percy and see what could be managed from that angle.

Ginny had gone to meet up with Ron and Hermione for lunch. She’d invited Luna and Percy to come along, but when Percy had made an excuse to stay home, Luna knew she’d have to as well.

“Percy?” Luna entered the kitchen, where Percy had been nursing a cup of tea for the last twenty minutes.

Percy jumped in his seat, his head snapping up.

“Oh, hello, Luna,” he said, relaxing back into his chair. Luna sat down across from him.

“It’s okay if you aren’t ready to tell the whole world about you and Oliver,” she said.

Percy’s shoulders lost all their tension, and for a moment Luna thought she’d given him all the permission he’d needed. Then he sat forward again, shaking his head.

“I don’t want to disappoint her,” he said, his voice lower than usual. “I’ve already done that, and if I don’t go through with this...she’s going to think nothing’s changed in the slightest. That all I care about is what other people think, what it’ll do to my career…”

Luna’s heart sank. Ginny wouldn’t think to view his decision in such an unflattering light; Luna was sure of that.

“No, she won’t,” she said softly. “She knows how difficult it is to ask someone to do this. We all do.”

“Even still—”

“All she wants is for you to be happy,” Luna said, half-wondering if it was her place to interject such a comment. But if she knew it was true, if it would help, why not say so? “I think she’s asking because she’s hoping this will help you do that.”

“I _am_ happy,” Percy said, after a pause.

“But not as much as you could be.”

“Well…” Percy stared at her, mouth agape. “That seems an awfully high standard…”

Luna cocked her head to one side. Percy was good at avoiding the matter at hand, but she was much better at getting straight to the point.

“You have high standards for everything else, don’t you?”

Percy’s eyes widened. He couldn’t very well say no...

“Yes, well...I—”

“—and there’s something quite strong, about deciding you can be happier than you are right now,” Luna continued. “Don’t you think?”

“Well...I suppose so, yes.”  Percy’s brow was knit; he looked to be puzzling out how Luna had managed to wrangle such an admission out of him.

Luna sat forward, feeling suddenly serious; she had to be careful, asking question after question. Sometimes it just made people more tangled up than ever.

“You really don’t have to do it, Percy,” she said. “I just think you shouldn’t make your decision based on what you’re most afraid of. Whether that’s Ginny or other people or...anything, really.”

“I’ll do it. Of course I’ll do it,” Percy said, though this time he looked more resolute than panicked. “I have to.”

He smiled at Luna’s look of confusion.

“My brother Bill likes to joke that our parents had so many children because they knew we’d need each other to help keep the world from going to hell,” he said. “Brothers and sisters just know they have to do certain things together. Asking Ginny to do this on her own...it would be wrong to ask that of her, if I knew I could help and decided not to.”

They’d reached a path in the conversation that Luna couldn’t entirely follow. She would never understand what it meant to have even one brother or sister. For better or worse, it would always be just her.

Even so, it hadn’t been Percy who Ginny first asked for help. Or Ron or George or any of them.

She’d asked Luna.

“She’s not doing it on her own,” Luna said.

Percy stared at her with an expression Luna couldn’t place.

“I know it.”

 

* * *

They had their seven. Each interview had been scheduled. Luna had been working tirelessly on perfecting color schemes, and Ginny had spent all her coffee breaks crafting questions that would cut straight to the heart. They had to hit the reader in just the right spot. She didn’t know if she’d ever get another chance, if this went badly.

She trusted Luna’s judgement about what would draw the eye, and the subject matter spoke for itself. They’d have no trouble getting people to pick the thing up. It was Ginny’s job to make sure people read though it all, that they understood what was being asked of them.

“Don’t be afraid of the questions changing as you go,” Luna had told her. “They’ll depend on people’s answers.”

Of course,” Ginny said, privately thinking that a solid plan was the best way to start things off. She winced inwardly, realizing that line of logic was a sure sign she had been staying with Percy for far too long.

Percy, she had to admit, had been more hands off than she’d expected. Not once had he asked more than three questions in a row about what she was doing, and he’d only given her a handful of suggestions, most of which Ginny had found quite helpful.

His involvement also meant that she could do her first official interview with her brother. While Percy could be critical, he was also honest. He’d tell her what she needed to fix before she met with people who’d expect her to know what she was doing.

“Okay…” she said, settling down at the table with him. “This is my first time doing this, so don’t expect me to be any good at it.”

“You can’t be any worse than some of the hacks I’ve spoken to at the _Prophet_.”

Despite the joke, Ginny noticed that Percy looked almost ill. His lips were drawn so tight they’d almost disappeared, and his hands were shaking on the table. He kept trying to stop them from doing it, clasping them one way, then another, searching for a position that would lock his nerves into place.

It hadn’t occurred to her that Percy would be afraid. Not because he didn’t have any reason to be, but because Ginny had always assumed their secrecy was for Oliver’s sake. She’d didn’t know why: no one had ever told her that was the case.

Perhaps it was because Percy had never seemed to worry about what being with Oliver meant. All the anxiety, all the fear and doubt that Ginny had spent so much time working through in her own mind...it felt as though Percy had skipped that step. He’d always bustled ahead of the pack in everything else, so it seemed natural that he’d found the process easy.

Maybe he hadn’t skipped it at all. Maybe he was finding his own way through it. A way that wouldn’t frighten the people he loved, the family he still seemed petrified of losing again.

Was he only doing this because he was afraid of Ginny’s anger, her judgment? That she’d think less of him for being reluctant?

She wanted to believe that he knew better than to be afraid of such a thing, anymore. He’d made wretched, short-sighted choices. Choices that hadn’t been worthy of his nature, that had torn through their relationship and left it for dead.

She’d watched him work to fit the pieces back together, and though she’d approached his efforts with her guard up, it became impossible not to credit his vigor and humility in sifting through the shattered remains of his relationships.

That work didn’t have to matter, Ginny supposed. No one was entitled to forgiveness. But it had mattered, to all of them.

There wasn’t any reason for him to be afraid of her rejection.

“Are you really okay with this?” Ginny asked. She prayed he’d tell her the truth.

“Yes,” Percy said, unlacing his fingers and taking his hands off the table entirely. “Of course.”

“Okay. You can tell me if you change your mind. Any time.”

Though she hoped Percy knew the words were true, she sensed something in his eyes that told her he wouldn’t be bowing out. He’d committed himself to seeing it through. At the end of the day, no one held Percy to a higher standard than he held himself.

“Is that a Blotts Unlimited quill?” Percy’s eyes narrowed.

“Why?”

“Well,” Percy began, rolling his shoulders back and sighing. “I know they’re flashy, but the detail in the charmwork is abysmal. Let me grab one of mine—”

“—Percy,” Ginny said, stopping Percy before he could rush off to his bedroom. “This quill is fine. And it’s what I’m going to use.”

“Very well,” Percy said, still eyeing the quill with distaste. “But when you find yourself grappling with mixed-up homonyms, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“Okay.” Ginny grinned. “Can I start now?”

“Yes, I’m ready.”

But before Ginny could touch her quill to the parchment, Percy interrupted again.

“I’m proud of you for doing this.”

He shot her an encouraging smile, and Ginny knew she didn’t have to tell him anything. That he already knew.

Still, she wanted to tell him before the whole world knew.

“You know I’m a lesbian, don’t you?”

She could tell from the look on Percy’s face that this came as no surprise...but then, she hadn’t expected it to.

“I do now,” he said. Always a politician. “Are you happier, knowing that?”

It wasn’t until she heard the question that Ginny realized it was the only one she really wanted to be asked.

“Yeah,” she said. “I mean, it’s a lot to take in, and obviously I’ve had to rethink...well, mostly everything. But it’s also better to know.”

Percy beamed. “Isn’t it?”

Feeling a rush of affection for her brother, Ginny set down her quill, stood up, and moved to hug Percy. He stood up and held her tight, one hand patting her back.

“It’s going to be brilliant,” he whispered. Ginny nodded as she pulled away. She looked up at him with a smile.

“So: what kind of quill would you use instead?”  



	11. Chapter 11

Ginny had always supposed painting was the most potent manifestation of Luna’s cerebral qualities. Ginny’s own art had always brought her relaxation and a reprieve from the competition and strife that permeated everything else in life. It seemed only natural that Luna would be all the more serene while working on a piece. 

However, Luna with a paintbrush was all concentration and discernment. Her brow stayed constantly furrowed, and her teeth tugged at her bottom lip every so often. Sometimes she’d stop working with a frustrated shake of her head, pulling her hair up into a loose, lopsided bun. 

“Keeps getting in my face,” she’d murmur, her voice low, almost raspy. 

Ginny found herself enraptured by the physicality of Luna’s painting, how angular she became when trying to get the shading just right. How hawkish her grey eyes became when observing a subject.

Ginny began to make excuses for watching Luna work. She’d bring home paperwork from Gringotts and sit across from Luna in the living room. The paperwork languished as Ginny looked up every few moments to see Luna hunched over, wearing a loose, paint-splotched top, her legs crossed in her chair and her hair pulled up onto the top of her head. 

Then she’d finish, putting up her materials and leaving the piece to dry, and it was like watching a tightly wound coil unfurl. Luna’s limbs would straighten and become limber. Her eyes would soften back into a dazed focus, and she’d let her hair down, leaving it in an unkempt tangle. Then she’d look at Ginny, who would hurriedly pretend to be caught up in calculations. 

“Does this look alright?” she’d ask, and Ginny would walk over to the table and look at another picture filled to the brim with tenderness and sincerity. 

She told Luna that it was perfect—they’d all be perfect—and Luna would look down at her work admiringly. Ginny’s gaze would move from the painting to Luna’s smile and the way her eyes shone with pride. Only then did Luna’s creative process become coherent. 

It took work, to make beautiful things. And Luna was one of the most beautiful people she’d ever known. 

They’d listen to her. If they didn’t listen to anything else, they’d listen to her art. How could they not? 

* * *

Luna knew plenty about capturing the spark in someone’s eye; she could paint life into almost anything. Art knew what it needed to come alive, and Luna knew how to respond to that need. Painting was just a kind of studying: the more you did it, the easier it was to know when you’d learned what you needed.

Formatting a magazine was more like a puzzle, and Luna had never been much good at those. If she’d had her way, each page would be a different size, to hold what it needed. 

Of course, you couldn’t go about it in that way. Each page had to be the size it was; everything else had to find a way to fit within its constraints. 

Ginny had an eye for building a page. She could sit down at the kitchen table, her feet tucked under her, and shuffle together three versions of a draft like it was nothing. 

“Which one, do you think?” she’d ask, and Luna was almost embarrassed to admit that-—really—she didn’t know. 

“They all look nice,” she’d say, delaying her response until she’d gotten a better idea of which one made Ginny’s heart soar. 

That part was easy enough. Given the slightest push, Ginny would begin chattering away about her thought process. Though she was animated the entire time, her eyes would light up a certain way when hitting upon an idea she truly loved. 

After a few iterations of this conversation, Luna learned which stylings Ginny liked best. The cleaner the page, the sleeker the design, the more pride filled Ginny’s voice. Still, Luna hung onto every word. The surer she was that Ginny loved a design, the more questions she asked. Seeing Ginny light up about the project distracted Luna from the one question she didn’t know if she’d ever find the courage to ask: 

Was there any chance, any hope, of Ginny returning Luna’s feelings? 

Some days, Luna felt quite certain that both of them were dancing around that same question, each waiting for the other one to ask first. They were always together, always in each other’s spaces, always filling each other’s minds with ideas and encouragement. 

There were places in the house where Luna couldn’t separate her own energy from Ginny’s: the left side of Ginny’s couch. The kitchen table between the hours of six and eight at night. The hall closet where they both grabbed up their cloaks in the morning, stopping to make lunch plans. 

Perhaps it was that intimacy that made Luna afraid of mentioning her feelings to Ginny. As wonderful as it would be to erase the last vestiges of distance between them, Luna knew that taking another step forward might mean Ginny taking a step back. 

She couldn’t bear that. Not now. Not when she had Ginny so close, so often. A step backward would tear something out of Luna, creating a wound she wasn’t certain anyone would be able to heal. 

And so she kept waiting for a small sign, the slightest shuffle, of Ginny moving towards her. If she had that, if she had something she could hold to her heart and trust in...then she could step forward. 

If Ginny had any feelings for her at all, it would happen; Luna was sure of it. When it came down to it, Ginny was better at puzzling things out. She would know what to say and when to say it. 

All Luna had to do was listen. 

 


	12. Chapter 12

**_Our Lives_ **

 

**Notes from the Editors**

 

**Ginny Weasley**

Before anything else. I want to thank everyone who agreed to be a part of this project. It took bravery and honesty and--most importantly--love. I am honored and humbled by their openness, by their grace, and by their joy.

There will be people in the coming weeks who will try and frame this publication as angry, resentful, even destructive. Let me tell you what I see within these pages:

I see commitment. I see reflection. I see fear and hesitation and a desire for things to be better. I see love and happiness and a sense of infectious purpose. To witness these testimonies, to sit with these individuals and hear their stories, was a privilege.

With that, I want to thank my friend and fellow editor, Luna Lovegood, for helping to capture that spirit in her paintings. She is the heart of this project: _Our Lives_ was her idea and it is her enthusiasm for the printed word which has made this project a reality.

Thank you also to those who take the time to read and reflect on what you see here. Thank you to those of you who will tell your family and friends, who will put out a copy in your office lobbies or breakroom tables. The only way we can get used to talking about these things is through practice, and this publication is just one way of exercising that muscle. We appreciate you; we need you.

And for those of you who see yourselves in these pages: you matter. We are listening. We will make sure you are heard.

(And because I know people are going to ask: yes, I am. Yes, I’m sure. Yes, of course that’s why Harry Potter isn’t my “beau” anymore, Rita).

—Ginny Weasley

* * *

 

**Luna Lovegood**

I didn’t know what to put in an editorial letter, at first. The best journalism speaks for itself, after all. I asked Ginny if I ought to draw a picture instead, seeing as how that’s what I’ve done for the magazine. But she thought that words would be better, for this part.

It’s funny; I’m quite nervous for other people to see all the work we’ve done with this publication. I’m not sure why. It’s not as though I haven’t experienced the controversy that a good article brings (who can forget the 1994 Quibbler article on vampiric monkeys being brought over from Madagascar? Of course, I’ve since been told by my good friend Percy Weasley that he never saw any monkeys while he was working in International Affairs—vampiric or otherwise—so perhaps that was shocking for the wrong reasons).

Still, this feels different. Perhaps because most journalism is about other people. The best writers and photographers and editors know how to make the rest of the world shine while they fade into the background.

But this publication is about me as much as it is the players and their partners. People are going to look at these portraits I’ve done, and they’ll see my story through them as well.

I suppose I could pretend otherwise, act as though I’m much more generous than I am. But that would be beside the point, of course. If I’m asking other people to be visible, than I need to take that step into the light with them.

That’s what an artist does, I’ve realized: they show who they are to the world. A journalist would never, but an artist must.

I think I like being an artist much better.

Thank you for reading and sharing and holding these stories in your heart. Together, we will bring everything into the light.

—Luna Lovegood

 

* * *

 

**Excerpts From: A Sit Down with Oliver Wood (Keeper, Puddlemere United)**

 

 **Ginny Weasley:** Some people might see that you’ve kept your relationship a secret and take that as a sign that you’re afraid of something. Or embarrassed, perhaps. What do you say to them?

 **Oliver Wood:** It’s not about being afraid or embarrassed. It’s my business. It’s not the public’s business what I do when I’m not being a Keeper. They don’t need to know; I’d rather they didn’t know.

 **GW** : Why?

 **OW** : Once you let people into your business, they decide what your life means to them. And I don’t give that privilege lightly. I’m in the League to play a game; I’m not in the League to be a personality. There’s players that are there for that, and good for them. That’s not who I am.

 **GW** : So why was it important to you to talk to me, to bring your business—as it were—into the public eye?

 **OW:** Because not everyone’s me. And for some people, being private feels the same as keeping a secret. And that’s a very different way of looking at it. Secrets destroy everything they touch, and that’s what gay witches and wizards are asked to do: destroy their own lives for the comfort of the majority. I don’t reveal my personal affairs lightly, like I said. But I’ll do it if it helps other people feel less afraid. That’s not a question, in my mind. It’s about responsibility to other people and our communities.

 **GW:** Are you worried about consequences for this interview?

 **OW:** You mean for my job? Look, I love what I do. It’s my dream; I want to be working with the League until I drop dead. Everyone who knows me knows that’s how I feel. But there’s more important things in life. And I’m more worried about what happens if we don’t start talking about it honestly and openly.

 **GW** : You’ve said why you personally have kept your private life private. But, in your opinion: does the League implicitly encourage gay witches and wizards to keep these things a secret?

 **OW:** There’s nothing implicit about it, and it’s not just the League. Back when I was small, my parents took me to a Quidditch camp out in Wales. That’s when I first learned there was a word for what I was. And it’s where I learned it was the worst thing a boy could be. It starts young, and it keeps up so that by the time you get to the League...everyone knows what to expect.

 **GW:** What do you say to people who point to openly gay players—Alexander Casella, Gwenog Jones—and say things turned out just fine for them?

 **OW:** I’d say, what about players without massive amounts of money already in their family trusts, who can’t afford to lose endorsements and entire signing deals over these things? Because that’s what happened to Casella and Jones. It wasn’t as though everyone was perfectly happy with them coming out. People tolerate it, if the player is invaluable enough, if they keep it quiet enough where the average fan can ignore it for the most part. That’s not acceptance.

 **GW:** Does your relationship suffer because it’s not generally accepted?

 **OW:** It’s hell, for Percy. It’s hard for me, but I can manage alright. My parents have been supportive, his family is supportive...that’s all I really need. But it’s the sort of thing I can see eating away at him. And I have a fantastic life, I’m incredibly lucky...but there’s things I’d change, and that’s one of them.

 **GW:** But you’re otherwise happy together?

 **OW:** More than happy. It’s peace, being with someone who loves you. It’s not always easy! But it’s like when you fly up to the rings on that perfect day—every player has their perfect day. And sometimes you play well on your perfect day, and sometimes you don’t. But it’s still a perfect day. And that’s sort of what we have together. That perfect day, every day.

 **GW:** What do you think keeps people from understanding your relationship in those terms?

 **OW** : They don’t know it’s possible for us to feel that way.. They’ve been lied to. And the only way to stop a lie is to tell the truth. That’s what we’re doing today.

* * *

 

 

**Excerpts From: Words from Our Partners (Percy Weasley)**

**Ginny Weasley:** What is it that you want people to know about your experience as a gay person?

 **Percy Weasley:** Well, I think it’s important first of all to go on the record as saying that I have been attracted to both women and men before. There are people who feel one way or the other about these things, and I never have. Well, I shouldn’t say never: when I was quite young, I didn’t think much about girls. I really didn’t. It was mostly boys. I don’t know why, it just happened that way.

 **GW:** So you assumed you were gay as a child?

 **PW** : Absolutely. I felt a tremendous amount of relief when I realized I could fall in love with a woman. There were a good few years, as a teenager, where I told myself that whatever I’d been feeling as a child must not have mattered. Or that it didn’t have to matter, I suppose.

 **GW:** Why was that a relief to you?

 **PW:** No one wants to find out they have certain qualities that are going to make their life more difficult. And I knew that it would always be easier to be with women. That’s a fact. And it’s the sort of fact that no one has to tell you. You just know it, down to your very core. You don’t know how you came to know it, you don’t even know why it’s true...but you know it. So I was relieved as anything when I realized I didn’t have to carry that weight around if I didn’t want to.

 **GW:** Why did you decide to date a man, despite all of that?

 **PW:** Because when I fell in love with Oliver, I forgot to care much about the difficult parts. It’s one thing when you’re imagining a hypothetical life with a hypothetical woman, and then one with a man. It’s easy to say: “oh, well a woman would be simpler, I’ll choose that.” When one of them is real, that side-by-side comparison disappears. I’m not going to choose a hypothetical woman over a man I really love. Or vice versa.

 **GW** : Do you consider yourself bisexual?

 **PW:** Yes, precisely that! I remember when I first read the word, in my Muggle Studies class. They’re a bit more on the up-and-up with terminology, I must say...anyway, I told my girlfriend at the time—Penelope Clearwater who works for the Wizengamot, you know, she’s still a dear friend—“oh, there’s a word for it.”

 **GW:** You told your girlfriend?

 **PW:** She was my best friend; I told her everything. I probably gave her quite a shock, looking back, but she took it in stride. Most people don’t, unfortunately. I don’t see what’s especially confusing about it, myself, but then again I’m looking at it from the inside.

 **GW:** Do you think yours or Oliver’s careers will suffer from going public?

 **PW:** If I didn’t believe they absolutely would, I’d have done it already. I hope I’m wrong, but it’s out of my hands. That’s all I’ll say.

* * *

 

**Excerpts From: A Sit Down with Katie Bell (Chaser, Holyhead Harpies)**

**Ginny Weasley** : Have you felt pressure to keep your relationship a secret?

 **Katie Bell:** I’ve never kept it a secret. Never felt like I should have to. I mean, I don’t go around talking about it all the time. I suppose there’s a part of me that knows it draws more controversy than it would if I was talking about my boyfriend. But at the same time, I am who I am. And I don’t see who it benefits to pretend otherwise.

 **GW:** What’s your perspective on the idea that witches and wizards risk losing their way of life if same gender relationships become normalized?

 **KB:** Here’s the thing: I think we need to stop asking permission and just make more of an effort to form our own communities. Muggles have been doing it for decades, and look what they’ve managed. If we took that model and applied it here, you’d see change and you’d see it quick. So I think the most important piece is rolling up our sleeves and deciding this is worth spending the time to fix. We’ve heard the arguments about bloodlines; they’re rubbish. Let’s do something about it. Because I’ll put my vision of the world up against theirs any day.

 **GW:** It doesn’t sound like you put much stock in public opinion on these issues.

 **KB:** I don’t! I really don’t. Because I love Leanne. I’ve loved Leanne since we were kids, practically. You can’t change that. You can make it so we’re afraid, you can make it so other people don’t know a thing about how we live or how we feel...but you can’t change what’s there. So all you’re really doing is pretending. And I’m sorry: I’m not spending every day of my life pretending. I’m living my life as honestly and as happily as I can.

 **GW:** And how is that working out for you?

 **KB:** I’d say I’m doing a pretty damn good job. I have a wonderful relationship. It’s not missing anything; not anything either of us want, anyway. You can moan about lineage and you can moan about children, but we decide what matters in our lives. Not everyone else. And we have what matters to us. It’s wonderful.

 **GW:** A lot of people think that after Gwenog Jones came out, people don’t care whether their Quidditch players are gay or not. What do you say to those people?

 **KB:** All that happened after Gwenog was that people leaned even harder into making stupid jokes. You know what I’m talking about: comments about how most women in Quidditch are dykes. I’ve heard that so many times. And yet, if you’ve been in a locker room, if you’ve been on a team, you know hardly any woman feels comfortable with the idea of lesbians actually being there. It’s like the opposite of an open secret. Everyone knows gay women love Quidditch; everyone acts like it’s a personal affront when they find out an actual one exists in their personal bubble of reality. I’m tired of it. You know the history, you know we’re here...get over it or leave. Because we aren’t.


	13. Chapter 13

_Under the Witches’ Hat_

Larissa Evergold-- **Commentator for _The Daily Prophet_**

  _We are having wind storms across London, and I know from the letters my fabulous readers are sending that people’s trash bins aren’t the only thing reeling in town!_

_For those living under a mossy rock: a controversial new magazine has been making the rounds, spicing up water cooler conversations across Wizarding Britain._

_Is this publication about the recent Floo service lapses? Perhaps the new appointment of a werewolf to the Wizengamot? Or maybe it’s exploring our deplorable state of higher education, and the mass exodus of British students after graduation!_

_Astonishingly, this magazine speaks about none of these pressing problems. Rather, it chooses to draw attention to the supposed plight of popular, successful world-class athletes...who happen to be gay (do they catch a Quaffle differently, I wonder?)_

_I’m sure the publication’s success has nothing to do with the fact that the editor is Ginny Weasley. That’s right: the former girlfriend of Harry Potter and current disgraced member of the Holyhead Harpies has come out of the closet, ready to throttle us all with righteous anger._

_Featuring sentimental, overbearing portraits—painted by Dumbledore’s Army’s kook Luna Lovegood—the publication seeks to hit us in the emotional jugular, without acquainting itself with the facts on the matter of homosexuality in wizarding society._

_What are some of these facts? So happy you asked!_

  * _Despite the fact that this publication makes it seem as though there’s whole swathes of gay witches and wizards, the percentage of gay citizens is small, much smaller, even, than the minorities’ presence in Muggle communities. (Some believe that homosexuality is not innate to wizarding culture, though this has not been confirmed via any reputable studies. What we **do** know? Is that this is hardly an issue that merits the attention Miss Weasley and Miss Lovegood want to give it)._
  * _There is no law against sleeping with whoever you like, so long as they’re a consenting adult. Not a single one. To suggest legal discrimination is an exaggeration at best, and an outright fabrication at worst._
  * _Plenty of witches and wizards live perfectly happy lives in same-gender relationships. And good for them! They throw the best parties, don’t they? Here’s the difference: they don’t feel the need to whine about the fact that they are (naturally) not the priority. There’s more of us, sweethearts! You’ll have to get used to that._
  * _Heterosexual unions produce children and promote clear wizarding lineage. This will always be encouraged above procreative deadness (in whatever form it takes). Look, I’m also free to sit at home with my cats instead of trying to land a husband (and Merlin knows, some days that seems the better choice). But I don’t expect an award for it, do I?_
  * _If Miss Weasley and Miss Lovegood think that they can manipulate society into tearing itself apart to appease them because of their “celebrity,” they have another thing coming._



_So, what’s under this witch’s hat today? Oh, something loads of you Dumbledore fanatics aren’t going to like! But here it is: frankly, I’m not surprised that a family like the Weasleys has produced the leader of this current temper tantrum._

_You are looking at a low-income family with seven children...the entire family celebrates a lack of control, a disregard for the good of society._

_Blasphemy, to denounce heroes of the Second Wizarding War? Perhaps. But you regular readers know I was never a pious person_

_Think about it: it’s quite by luck the Ministry was never called on to assist the Weasleys by subsidizing their self-indulgence. So it is entirely expected that children from such a household think that their every whim is somehow a cultural good._

_This is evidenced by the fact that two of the Weasley children are now “gay,” despite the statistical rarity of such a condition_

_There are few people who cannot and would not be happy with the opposite gender. I have no quarrel with them. They have always existed, and that’s wonderful! As I said before: there is no law against same-sex relationships in Wizarding Britain. What we cannot have, what our society cannot do, is pretend that rampant same-sex couplings do not undermine our ability to populate Wizarding society._

_And that’s what’s at stake here: our bloodlines cannot persist if we have people flagrantly choosing to play house with partners who will never provide them children._

_Grow up._

_Until next week!_

_—Larissa Evergold_

* * *

 

“I went to school with Larissa,” Percy said, giving the paper a withering look before pouring his coffee. “She was two years above me, and I always thought we got along well. But if I had a galleon for every Hufflepuff who thought fair play meant whatever made the most people applaud, I’d...well, never mind. Best not to give it another thought.”

Luna nodded. She’d expected a response like this. In truth, she’d anticipated worse. So far, her coworkers had either ignored the subject altogether or congratulated her on a job well done. Naomi Jarbey had even started crying...though she had been bursting into tears over almost anything since her brother moved to Singapore.

Best of all had been the letters of support and encouragement, some of them from strangers, but many from DA members Luna had lost contact with in the past few years.

There was the one from Seamus and Dean, with a sketch from Dean of the two of them. _Put us in the next one!_ they’d written. Luna had tacked the picture up on a corkboard in her room. Dean was a fine artist in any case, but no one could paint a clearer portrait of a relationship than someone in it.

Then there had been a note from Parvati and Lavender, delivered by an tawny owl who spent twenty minutes preening itself on the windowsill before condescending to fly off with a reply letter.

The longest note had been from Ernie Macmillan, who spent the better part of two feet of parchment explaining his own study of gay wizard history.

 _Of course, there’s no reason to be ashamed of wizarding traditions,_ he concluded, and Luna could hear the stern swell in his voice as she read the words. _However, there is no use arguing the fact that if wizards can’t find a way to keep those traditions whilst including everyone, then we aren’t nearly so clever as we pretend to be. I myself am proud to be a gay wizard, and while in the past I’ve been hesitant to be ostentatious about this fact, your work has made me realize that there’s great strength in revealing who you are._

Ginny had laughed good naturedly at Ernie’s pompous tone, but Luna supposed he’d only written so much because he was trying not to be afraid.

In all, Luna felt as though they’d inspired more joy than anger or fear. And if people like Larissa Evergold wanted to be ugly, then they’d just have to put out more happiness to counteract it.

However, Luna wasn’t sure if Ginny would feel the same way about Larissa’s words, and when Ginny entered the kitchen, Luna reflexively drew the paper closer to her. Ginny looked at her, eyes narrowed.

“What’s that?”

“Oh, nothing really…” Luna lied. She could tell Ginny wasn’t appeased for a moment.

“Is it about us?” she said, sitting down next to Luna.

“I don’t think you’ll want to read it,” Luna insisted. “It’s not very nice…”

But Ginny snatched the newspaper out of Luna’s hands and immediately began scanning Larissa’s column. The room went silent; the only movement was Ginny’s left hand, which kept tightening into a fist. Otherwise, her expression remained blank.

After a minute, Percy spoke up.

“Ginny, expecting that rubbish to tell you anything important is a fool’s errand.”

Ginny shook her head. “We have to know what they’re saying.”

“No, we really don’t,” Percy said, grabbing his coffee cup and downing the last sip. “Excuse me, I have to get to the office early...lots of new and interesting mail to sort through.”

Despite Percy’s complaints, the article had granted Percy and Oliver much needed freedom. Oliver was around more often, and the backlash hadn’t been enough to stop the spring that had entered Percy’s step.

The magazine had helped people. Really and truly helped them. Larissa Evergold couldn’t change that fact. And if they kept to their messaging, no one could truly stand against them.

“Percy’s right,” Luna said. “We have to focus on what we’re trying to say.”

Ginny’s eyes lingered on the article for another moment before she sighed and pushed it away in disgust.

“I really thought it would be harder for people to do things like this,” she said. “Is that silly?”

“No, I don’t think so,” Luna replied. “It’s always better to hope for the best. We just have to be willing to keep hoping, even when we’re disappointed.”

Ginny nodded glumly.

“That’s going to be the hard part.” She stared wistfully at the paper, as though she might will something more positive onto its pages, before sitting up, her eyes becoming alert and intense once again.

“So: what’s our next move?” she asked. “Everyone’s asking what the next edition should be. I say we go into another industry: maybe Ministry employees. Or Gringotts, even. Do you think there are gay goblins?”

Luna considered the question. “Well, there’s gay most-everything-else, so I would imagine so.”

“I’ll have to ask Bill...if there are any, he’ll know them,” Ginny said. “You ever painted a goblin?”

“I haven’t, except for when I was very small and thought one lived in our linen closet,” Luna replied. Ginny snorted.

“In your linen closet? What would a goblin want with sheets?”

Luna shrugged. “I don’t think I realized goblins aren’t the same thing as ghouls until I was nine or ten.”

Ginny leaned forward, an impish grin on her face.

“Well, was there a ghoul in your linen closet?”

“No, unfortunately,” Luna said, smiling. “But if there are gay goblins, I don’t think I’ll have any trouble managing the form. You can paint anything once you know how to break down a figure.”

“Of course,” Ginny said. “You’re a fantastic artist.”

Luna swelled with pride and was about to thank Ginny for the compliment when Ginny added--in a tone that suggested she was talking about an empty inkwell: “It’ll be such a pain, looking for a replacement.”

Luna blinked. “What do you mean, a replacement?”

Ginny looked up, eyes wide, at Luna’s chilly tone.

“I mean, when you go to Norway for school.” Her voice was tight and guarded. “We’ll obviously need someone else to cover what you do.”

Luna had the sudden urge to tear down the picture Dean had sent and rip it up into pieces.

“ _Obviously_ ,” she said bitterly. “I never mentioned anything about when I was leaving, or whether I still wanted to leave, but _obviously_.”

Ginny’s ears went pink.

“Well, you didn’t say you weren’t going,” she replied, her voice shaking. “So I don’t know what you expected me to think.”

“I didn’t expect you to think that I’d start something I wasn’t ready to see finished,” Luna snapped.

“Okay,” Ginny murmured. “Never mind, then. Forget I said anything.”

“How am I supposed to do that?”

Luna couldn’t just forget how coolly Ginny had spoke of her absence, of finding someone else to fill her role. She’d thought, all this time, that what they were doing together might mean something more to both of them. And if it didn’t, if all Ginny wanted was someone--anyone--to draw pictures...

Luna was tired of finding out the things she believed in didn’t exist.

“Look, I’m sorry!” Ginny’s whole face was properly red by now. “I didn’t mean that I think you don’t care about this. But you make it sound like going to Norway was your goal.”

“Sometimes things change. I didn’t think I had to tell you that.”

Ginny closed her eyes. When she opened them again, her voice was even.

”It’s just that I want you to stay,” she said. “And I know that it’s not fair of me to expect that, so it’s easier to just...remind myself that you might still want to leave. I don’t want you to think you have to stay, or you’re leaving me behind.”

From the anxiety behind her eyes, Luna could tell Ginny wasn’t saying all that she meant. But it sounded like she might be afraid of the same thing Luna was: that the ties that bound them together were for convenience alone.

“You’ve never made me feel like that,” she replied.

“Good.”

But the tension hadn’t left Ginny’s face, and Luna knew it was her fault for snapping so quickly at something Ginny hadn’t meant as a slight.

“I’m sorry I was cross,” she said, after a pause. “I thought maybe you wanted me to go, and it made me upset.”

Ginny looked at her with wide eyes. “Of course I don’t want you to go! I couldn’t do it without you. And I wouldn’t want to even if I could.”

Luna smiled.  “That’s nice of you to say.”

“It’s true,” Ginny said warmly. “I’m really happy we’re doing this together.”

She was back to leaning forward in her seat, eyes bright, cheeks still flushed. And Luna could feel herself on the brink of revealing all that she’d kept secret for so long. What more did she want, what could she possibly be waiting for?

But before Luna could manage to even think of where to begin, Ginny caught sight of the clock on the wall behind Luna’s head.

“Shit! If I’m late again this week, Bill might actually kill me…”

She shot up out of her chair and grabbed her bag off of the counter.

“I’ll see you tonight!” she called out as she raced through the front door.

Luna sat back in her seat, admittedly relieved she had a few more hours to plan what she might say to Ginny.

But when she stood up a few minutes later to fetch her own things for work, her eyes caught the clock: its hands hadn’t quite reached seven thirty.

Ginny wouldn’t be running late for another fifteen minutes.

Luna’s heart fell into her stomach as she turned violently away from the clock and hurried out the door.

Perhaps Ginny had a new schedule...of course, that was always possible. An early meeting, a new procedure...there were a dozen explanations that didn’t involve lying, Luna reassured herself.

And even if Ginny was lying, did that have to mean something had gone terribly wrong? Perhaps she needed some time as well, to collect her thoughts, sort out her feelings. And if she’d needed to exaggerate her schedule to buy some time...well, who hadn’t shifted fifteen minutes here or there, once in a while?

The worst possibility—the one Luna spent the rest of the day convincing herself was the least likely by far—was that Ginny had realized how Luna felt, and she didn’t share those feelings.

It didn’t help that _The Muse_ was quiet that day, leaving Luna plenty of time to sort through the possibilities in her head, ranking them this way, then that...as if any of her probabilities were based in reality.

 _I’ll just have to wait and see what happens tonight_ , Luna thought to herself, before returning to her futile list-making.

 


	14. Chapter 14

Ginny didn’t know how it had happened. Weeks had gone by, and she had managed to be around Luna without feeling anything more than a vague desire to change their relationship sometime in the future. 

Was it the emotional rush of releasing the magazine? Or maybe the argument they’d had that revealed Luna wasn’t planning on running off to Norway anymore? 

Whatever it was, Ginny had been about five seconds away from telling Luna she was in love with her. She’d caught herself just in time, and while she wasn’t proud of pretending to be late, it had done the trick. 

A fine thing that would have been, spilling her guts ten minutes before she had to leave for work…and what would happen when she returned home? She couldn’t risk being overcome by madness again. Not without a plan of action.

The trouble was, she didn’t have the first idea of how to make one. In all her years of dating boys, Ginny had never had a plan that involved more than smiling as much as she could. It had all been easy...but then, she’d never really been in love with any of them. 

Love was what made it all miserable; she knew that, now. Why on earth did anyone do it?  _ How _ did anyone do it? Who had been the first person to stumble through terror and doubt to come out the other side with a partner, and what lies had they told the rest of the world to convince them to try it as well? 

Still...if Luna felt the same way, if Ginny could walk through to the other side...wouldn’t it be worth it? 

Ginny knew plenty of people who could answer that question, but only one who would tell her the unadulterated truth. And as soon as she’d caught up with her morning paperwork, she’d scrawled off a note to Katie, who replied with an eager: “come by at noon!”

Bill had shrugged when Ginny asked for an extended lunch. 

“You’ll get behind on your paperwork,” he said, in Mum’s best “if you must” tone. 

Ginny went anyway. She had to get this right. 

Katie opened the door with a grin. 

“Ginny!” She waved her into the flat. “How’s Britain’s biggest troublemaker?” 

“Oh, you know…” Ginny said, following Katie to the sitting room. “Just thought I’d stop by.” 

“The piece was fantastic,” Katie gushed, plopping herself onto the couch. “Leanne and I couldn’t be happier with it. I’ve got people asking me, are you doing another one, what are you covering next...this is going to take off.” 

“That’s great,” Ginny said, sitting the armchair across from the couch. There was a part of her that couldn’t quite remember why anyone cared about the magazine in the first place.

“So what do I tell them?” Katie asked. “What’s next steps?” 

“For now?” Ginny fumbled for an answer that would matter, but that wouldn’t give rise to more conversation on the subject. “Just give me names, and we’ll, uhm...we’ll set something up.” 

“What’s the matter?” Katie frowned. “You seem weird.” 

“It’s just been a lot,” Ginny said. 

“The backlash, you mean? Don’t worry about the  _ Prophet _ . The people listening to them had their minds made up anyway.”

“Oh, I don’t care about that,” Ginny said, even as the thought of punching Larissa Evergold in the nose came pleasantly to mind. “Not much, anyway.”

“So?” Katie pressed. “What’s the problem?” 

This was why she’d come, but Ginny found it impossible to just tell Katie that she’d realized she was in love with her best friend. The words still trembled from view when she so much as thought them into existence. They weren’t eager to come out into the world. 

“I thought I knew who I was, finally,” she said. “I thought I knew what I actually wanted from life. And now I have the chance to have those things, to be that person...and I’m not sure I’m ready.”

“Are we talking about coming out, or are we talking about how you fancy Luna?” Katie said after a pause. 

Ginny’s heart leaped in her chest. She had spent the whole morning coming up with ways to tell Katie—ways to _ prove _ to Katie—that she really, truly was in love with someone this time. 

But Katie had just up and said it. As though it were a matter of course. 

“...what?” 

“—come on,” Katie sat back on the couch and drew one of her legs onto her lap. “One of you is always eying the other. Besides, she’s fancied you since school. Oh, don’t look at me like you didn’t know. Everyone fancied you.” 

“Did she say anything to you?” Ginny said, her face growing hot. “In school, or...ever?” 

“She didn’t need to,” Katie shrugged. “It was obvious.”

“Yeah?” Ginny stammered. It was one thing to have suspected--and hoped--that Luna had feelings for her. It was quite another to hear someone else say it outloud, as though it were obvious. As though it had been obvious for years. 

“Merlin, Ginny…” Katie chuckled.

“I’m sorry, I’m not used to noticing if girls like me!” Ginny protested. “Boys are different.” 

“Still.” 

Even as she shook her head at Katie’s teasing admonishment, Ginny knew this was what made her the best person to ask for advice. She didn’t bullshit, and that was the only kind of person worth asking anything. 

“Do you think it would work?” she said. “Us being together? Because I’ve done the thing where you date someone who’s a friend, and I’m not sure I can do that again if it doesn’t go well.” 

Katie’s face lost its grin, and she met Ginny’s gaze with intensity. 

“Do you think you can do the thing where you’re in love with your friend but never tell her because you’re afraid of your feelings?”

Ginny blinked, but Katie’s face remained unchanged. 

“I know that sounds harsh,” Katie said, “but you should know better than to ask yourself if you’re willing to risk caring about something. That’s an easy yes, Ginny. Every time.”

“I know, but—”

“Look: you aren’t guaranteed anything in life but the choice to care. Don’t throw that away, too.” 

Ginny closed her eyes. Katie was right, of course. That’s why Ginny had come to her in the first place, to talk her out of her doubts and fears. To help her get to that other side. That place that everyone insisted was wonderful and peaceful and perfect without needing to be perfect…

She wanted that.

“I have to talk to her, don’t I?” she sighed. 

Katie laughed

“Well, if you want a girlfriend, you’ll have to.”

When Ginny returned to work, she found a rather disgruntled delivery owl sitting atop of her desk, poking its beak into an tidy bouquet of wildflowers. Ginny knew without picking up the card who had sent them. 

“ _Love from Mum and Dad_ ,” was all the note said. Even a few days ago, Ginny might have resented their refusal to say what they really meant. But after speaking with Katie, she could feel nothing but gratitude for their patience and discretion. 

They were waiting on her cue as best they could manage. And if she wanted to tell them the truth, she would have to commit to taking those last steps towards that truth. 

She’d take those steps soon enough, she thought as she shooed away the irritable owl. 

There was just one person she had to talk to first. 

* * *

Ginny was happy that Oliver and Percy now felt free to spend as much time together as they wanted. Only a noble cause could have pushed them out into the open, and now they could live as they pleased, without each of them pretending for the other’s sake. Ginny wasn’t sure if either of them even realized that they’d each given the other one exactly what they’d always wanted.

However, their renewed intimacy came with consequences. The worst of these was that evenings never slowed down for a moment. With both of them bustling around the flat and chattering away to each other, Ginny wasn’t sure how she’d find a moment to talk to Luna alone. 

After dinner, Luna had retreated to her room, but Ginny couldn’t risk joining her there only to have Percy interrupt over something stupid. Even if they were lucky enough to avoid him knocking down the door, she was sure no conversation they had would be free of Oliver and Percy’s noise. All she could do was sit at the kitchen table, pretending to be interested in whatever they were talking about.

Finally, Percy announced that they really ought to go out for groceries before the shops closed. Oliver stood up at once, and they were halfway out the door before Percy turned around and looked at Ginny. 

“You can come if you like,” he said, in a tone of voice that told Ginny he’d really rather she didn’t.

“That’s okay,” she said. And the second the two of them were out the door, still arguing over whether it was really fair to call Gobstones a sport, she hurried over to Luna’s room. 

The door was slightly ajar, and at Ginny’s knock, it fell halfway open. Luna was sitting on her bed, cross legged, flipping through one of the old editions of _The Quibbler_ she’d brought with her. She looked up at Ginny in the doorway, wide-eyed, and Ginny’s heart started racing. 

Shit. She’d forgotten everything she’d been planning to say. 

“Can I talk to you?” she asked. Luna, whose skin looked even paler than usual, nodded. 

“Of course.”

She shifted over on the bed so Ginny could sit beside her. Ginny let the silence between them settle before speaking. She didn’t want to rush into anything because she was afraid of the quiet; that couldn’t be the right away to begin anything in life, much less a relationship.

“I never really said I was sorry,” she finally said. “For being out of your life for so long.” 

Luna tilted her head to the side, but didn’t say a word. 

“And I know you’re thinking, that’s okay now. That’s over,” Ginny continued. “And I know it is. I know I needed space for a while. It wasn’t fair to you, but I needed to be selfish, I needed to be left alone to figure things out. But I’m still sorry, and I think that’s why I haven’t been able to stop feeling afraid…”

She took a shaky breath, not sure where to go from there. Luna waited for a moment, then prompted her. 

“What are you afraid of?” she murmured. Ginny closed her eyes. 

“I don’t want to be alone anymore,” she admitted, feeling every muscle in her body tense as she said the words. “And it’s scary.”

She glanced up at Luna, who was now staring into her lap, mouth slightly open. For the briefest moment, Ginny contemplated just letting the subject drop, shifting course to something less explosive. If Luna wasn’t ready, if she didn’t feel the same way…

But Katie’s words and face came to Ginny’s mind, and she shook all doubt out of her head. She’d just have to risk it; you only got so many choices in life. They had to count. 

“You remember that first day I was back?” she said. “When we went to lunch together?”

Luna’s head shot up at the question. 

"I remember,” she said, and the breathlessness in her voice told Ginny that being brave was already paying off. 

“Well, the thing is,” Ginny said, “the whole time, I was thinking... _ this _ is what I want. I didn’t even know what it meant, but I felt it anyway.”

Luna blinked. “I felt that way, too.”

Ginny could have burst into tears. All the tension in her body left in an instant, and she broke into a smile so wide it hurt. 

“Yeah?” she stammered. “Did you...did you notice that I’ve fancied you for a while, now?” 

Luna considered the question. A rare flush of color was on her cheeks, and she too had adopted a giddy sort of grin. 

“I thought you might…” she replied. “But you can never be sure.”

Ginny shook her head. “Oh, I don’t agree with that at all.”

She leaned in towards Luna, who met her halfway. They stopped for a moment, nose to nose, before Ginny tilted her head to the side and caught Luna’s lips in a kiss. It took Luna a moment to kiss her back, but once she did, it was as if a barrier between them came tumbling down. Ginny hadn’t known just how much that barrier was keeping out, but now that it was gone, all she wanted to do was get as close to Luna as she could.

> Image Description: A drawing of Ginny and Luna in a dimly lit room. There is a fabric hanging on the wall behind them and a string of fairy lights above. Ginny has one hand on Luna’s face as they kiss. Art by [ WhyTFnot ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhyTFNot/pseuds/WhyTFNot/) | [tonftyhw](https://tonftyhw.tumblr.com/).

She’d never kissed someone who made her stomach turn to butterflies when they reached up to caress her cheek with shaking, soft fingertips. She’d never understood the urge to kiss along someone’s jaw, down their neck, across the collarbone...only stopping when they hungrily moved to do the same to her. And she’d certainly never found herself underneath someone, half undressed, forcing herself to take a breath and pause before diving right in. 

“What do you want to do now?” she asked, panting. Luna—who was taking the opportunity to tie her hair up in a bun-—tilted her head to the side. 

“Do you mean, do I want to have sex?”

Ginny laughed. “Yeah, I guess I do mean that.”

She could tell from Luna’s expression that Luna had assumed they were already on the same page about what was happening next. 

“Yes, I do,” Luna said, and though she straightened her back with pride, her upturned lips revealed a shy sort of excitement. 

“Okay...okay, then. I just...wanted to make sure,” Ginny said, sitting up further so she could pull Luna down into a kiss. 

“I’ve never—” Luna murmured as she pulled away. 

“Me either,” Ginny said. “Not like...not like this, anyway.” 

Not even speaking the admission out loud was enough to frighten her. How many times had Ginny imagined what happened next, how many ways, in how many places? The only thing that had never changed, the one thing that was now so powerfully, undeniably real, was that sleeping with a woman would allow her to be gentle. To let go in a way she’d never felt able to before. It didn’t matter how brash she became when challenged, how many callouses her broomstick gave her...at her core she craved someone who could make her feel soft and warm and entirely safe. 

Here, with Luna, she was tender and unhurried. This was the first time she’d ever really desired another person, and she was in no rush to finish the experience. It took a minute to get it just right, but Luna was patient and encouraging. And once Ginny managed to find a rhythm that suited them, that patience paid off in spades. It was bliss, hearing Luna moan at the lightest touch of her tongue, to learn what made her back arch and her fingers tense up in Ginny’s hair. Her soft “ohs” when Ginny would pull back before Luna tumbled over the edge, pausing to kiss the inside of her thigh or the heel of the hand Luna kept tracing patterns on the back of her neck with.  

Finally, she felt Luna buck up against her, heard her cry out. She pulled away for a moment, watching Luna come down from her orgasm. Her hands moved up Luna’s stomach, then flitted their way across her sides as Ginny sat up, feeling her own body pulsing with desire. 

Luna, still shaking, reached up and took Ginny by the waist, pulling her close. 

“You alright?” Ginny asked. 

“Yes,” Luna replied. “But I...can we...it’s just that it’s more than I thought it would be.”

“Shhh...no, here…” Ginny cupped Luna’s face in her hands. “God, you’re so…”

In a burst of affection, she pressed her lips to Luna’s forehead before laying back and drawing her into her arms. Luna nuzzled against her chest. 

“I just need a minute,” she said, and Ginny only held her tighter. She didn’t care what happened next, or how long it took. They could stay there for centuries, if Luna wanted.

“Don’t worry about that,” she murmured, running a hand up and down Luna’s back. “I’m fine right here. You sure you’re okay?” 

“Mmmhmm,” Luna nodded. “It felt wonderful.”

“Yeah?” Ginny said, feeling a rush of pride. “Good. I’m glad.” 

“It does put quite a bit of pressure on me.”

At first, Ginny opened her mouth to argue, but she caught the spark in Luna’s eye. 

“I don’t think you’ll have any trouble,” she said with a laugh. 

* * *

“Ginny!” Percy hissed, his eyes looking as though they might pop out of his skull.

“Morning, Perce!” Ginny said, ignoring his dismay. “Any of that coffee for me?” 

She didn’t wait for his response before snatching a mug from the kitchen tree and pouring herself some coffee.

“Did you sleep in Luna’s room?” 

“Yeah, a little,” Ginny quipped. 

“Mum’s going to have my head, you realize that?” Percy said. 

“She’ll be fine. At least I’m not on the couch anymore! Anyway, I’m an adult. She doesn’t care that you and Oliver room together, does she?” 

“Oliver and I were seeing each other for quite a long time before that,” Percy said, swelling. “The circumstances were completely—” 

“—you think Mum didn’t know you were shagging the whole time? Come on.”

Percy raised his eyebrows, and Ginny could see him wondering if it was worth it to argue the point. He settled on a sharp huff of breath before taking a sip of coffee.

“Well...there’s nothing wrong with some discretion, that’s all,” he said, concession in his voice.

“So just don’t tell her. Or do. I don’t care.” Ginny picked up a muffin from the counter. “Can I have one of these?”

Percy, still looking stunned, nodded. 

“Does this mean I can put the sofa back together?” he asked, when Ginny was almost out the door. She turned on her heel, grinning. 

“Probably, yeah. I’d say so.”

“Good God…”

“Love you, Perce! See you tonight...”


	15. Chapter 15

“Luna? Did I forget to lock the door?”

“Key,” Luna said, holding up the spare. After she and Ginny had been constantly in and out to use his printing press, Luna thought her father would have stopped needing the reminder.

“Oh, yes,” her father said, his fingers twitching. “Yes, of course.”

A copy of _Our Lives_ was sitting on the living room coffee table, opened to a page where Harpies Beater Cassie Jules described the first time she kissed a girl. Luna had been especially proud of how she’d captured the twitch in Cassie’s left eye (“Mungo’s said they could fix it up for me, but it’s a signature, isn’t it?”).

“Did you like it?” she asked her father as he entered the living room behind her.

“It was certainly...it made its mark, didn’t it?” he replied, not meeting her gaze. Luna suddenly wished she’d just gone to the Burrow with Ginny for dinner. Why had she been in such a rush to invite this conversation?

“I know it must have been a bit of a shock, but you always say to keep your best ideas a secret,” she said, plastering a smile on her face. Perhaps he only looked worried because of the backlash. If she could show him she was fine, the furrow might leave his brow and he’d congratulate her on a job well done.

But his expression didn’t soften with her words.

“This goes a great deal further than an idea, don’t you think?”

Her whole life, Luna had supposed her father would understand who she was. She’d never told him she was a lesbian, never said the words. It would happen when it needed to, she’d thought. When there was a reason for it.

“Coming out” was for children with parents who didn’t have open minds, who had only whispered about “those people.” She didn’t need to come out to her father, who accepted all sorts of people, who believed in equality and fairness and liberation of the mind from social structures.

Except now, as she watched the muscles in his jaw working, she wondered if she’d given him far too much credit.

“Your mother thought that you were...that way,” he finally said, and Luna’s heart dropped into her stomach. She suddenly envied all those children whose parents had whispered; they’d known what to expect.

“She used to say you had a resonance about you,” he continued. “‘It’s good luck,’ she’d say. A sign that people are meant for creating greater things than just...more people.”

“You’ve said that before, too,” Luna said, her voice trembling. “I thought that’s what you believed.”

“I did. I do!” he insisted, eyes wide. “Your mother was very wise about people and how they were. That was one of the best things about her...and she was quite right. Very ahead of her time.”

Luna wished he’d stop talking about Mum. He didn’t know it, but she’d told Mum she thought she’d marry a girl, well before she’d told anyone else. Luna remembered how her mother’s eyes had lit up when she told her.

“Oh, there are so many nice girls,” she’d said. “You’re very lucky to get to fall in love with one, aren’t you?”

The whole rest of the world could have tossed their opinions at Luna’s feet, and it would have amounted to nothing compared to that observation. Her Mummy thought she was lucky, and so she was.

It had gone without saying that her father agreed, that his eyes would light up as well. Never had Luna imagined him reacting with such undeniable disappointment.

Though, if she were truthful with herself, perhaps she’d feared it from time to time. Why else had she waited so long to say anything?

“If you think it’s a good thing, why do you look upset?” she asked.

“I’m not upset,” he said, in that tone that meant he wanted to sound impressive. “There’s nothing to be upset about. Feelings have no bearing, in this case. It’s what your nature has settled into, and nothing I could say matters one bit to nature.”

“It matters to me,” Luna said. He still wouldn’t look at her, and now he was rocking a bit on his heels, working his forefinger against his thumb.

Finally, he looked up with a sigh. His eyes flitted across her face before landing their gaze on a family picture just to the left of Luna’s ear.

“I suppose Arthur and Molly Weasley have taken it all in stride?” he said. He didn’t wait for Luna to reply before shaking his head. “Well, they can afford to. Seven children...they can give up two for good luck. I have one. One daughter, one precious, fragile bloom. So you’ll have to forgive me, but—”

“—I don’t have to, actually.” Luna’s voice shook more than she’d have liked it to, but better that than to listen to another minute of nonsense. “It isn’t my fault that you wanted me to be something else. I didn’t come with any promises.”

He met her eyes, a flash of fear coming across his face.

“Luna...”

She gave him five seconds. Five seconds to say something, to say _anything_ , that might make it better. He was her father and she loved him; she could give him that much longer.

But all he did was open his mouth, blink a few times, then clear his throat as if he’d never meant to say anything at all. Luna could have cried if it weren’t for the anger that was coursing through her. Had he always been this way? Could she possibly have misunderstood for so long?

“You pretend to be open-minded, to be above the rest of the world,” she said. “And I believed it, for so long. But you’re not, really. Not when it’s difficult.”

He stared at her again, mouth still open.

“What do you want me to say?” he asked, his voice low.

Luna nearly retorted that he shouldn’t have to ask that question, but that seemed like defending a man who had clearly never existed.

“I want you to stop pretending that being disappointed means you love me.”

Her eyes narrowed at her father’s casual nod.

“I shouldn’t have brought your friends into the discussion; that wasn’t fair of me,” he said. “I don’t mean to suggest that I’d trade lives with Arthur Weasley...wouldn’t for all the gold in Gringotts.”

Luna rolled back her shoulders at the hint of a smile that crossed his face. He thought it was that easy. And why wouldn’t he? She’d made that easy, his whole life. All the things he “forgot” to do, all the niceties he ignored, all the plans he spoiled in his absent mindedness...she’d smoothed them over, every time. Made excuses. Kept secrets. Lied to herself. Whatever kept the illusion alive.

She wasn’t going to do it anymore.

“You’d just change me,” she challenged, her voice cold.

Her father’s spine went rigid, and any trace of mirth on his face disappeared.

“That’s not what I said,” he stammered. “I didn’t...it’s only that I need time, Luna. To get used to it.”

Luna nodded, her eyes moving over the room one last time: knick knacks filling each shelf, the coffee table always overfull with old books on obscure bits of magic...Luna had always imagined the house would hold its intrigue and charm for the rest of her life. That there’d always be something new to learn within its walls.

Being wrong about her future was a part of a life she’d have to get used to.

“You can have all the time you want,” she said with a shrug before turning on her heel.

“Luna!”

Not for one moment did Luna consider turning back. She was sorry to go, but how could she stay when there was another house just down the way with people who understood her, who had never expected her to be less than she was?

She raced along the path, envigored by the cool, bracing air. After years of carrying around weights she hadn’t even recognized, she could hardly bring herself to feel any sort of grief. That part would come, she was sure.

But just now, all Luna knew was that Mum would have told her to go without looking back.

“Nothing in this world is worth being trapped for.”


	16. Chapter 16

Before they headed off to the Burrow for a Friday dinner, Percy pulled Ginny to the side.

“Do you want to talk to Mum and Dad alone tonight?”

He looked serious as anything, and Ginny knew he’d bulldoze over any of the evening’s plans to suit her answer.

“I probably should…” she said.

“But do you want to?” Percy pressed.

Luna was meeting with her father that night, to have the same “private” conversation. Luna was pretending not to be worried, but Ginny could tell that Luna had expected a reaction from her father by now. His silence had caught Luna off guard, and Ginny hoped against her better judgment that the conversation would clear up Luna’s anxieties.

Having a conversation with her own parents didn’t make Ginny nearly so nervous. It was Mum’s crying she was most worried about. She’d never wanted to make a fuss over it all.

Still, better to get it over with.

“Yeah,” she said. “Sure.”

Percy nodded before turning on his heel and striding away; Ginny supposed she’d just have to sit back and wait for him to enact whatever plan he was concocting.

It didn’t take long. Once Mum had pulled them all into the house with a fierce embrace (Ginny thought Mum’s eyes already looked watery, but she turned to hug Oliver before Ginny could tell for certain), Percy had scanned the entryway with a hawkish stare.

“Where’s Dad?” he asked.

“Held up at work…” Mum said with a sigh. “Dinner might be on the late side.”

“That’s no trouble,” Percy said. “We’re early.”

He caught sight of the still unset table, and Ginny could see his mind leaping at the opportunity.

“Oliver and I can get the table, Mum,” he said.

“No, no, I don’t need any…” She caught Percy’s eyes, which drifted not-so-subtly over to Ginny, and blushed. “Well, if you insist, I suppose...you know where everything is?”

“Unless you’ve switched up the kitchen after twenty four years…” he replied, already waving Oliver over to one of the drawers.

“Come and sit, dear…” Mum murmured, nudging Ginny out to the living room.

“Sit, won’t you?” she repeated, tossing a haphazard gesture towards the sofa.

“I’m fine,” Ginny said before clearing her throat. “So...thanks for the flowers.”

Mum wrung her hands and looked down at her shoes.

“Percy said I should wait for you to come and talk to us,” she said, her voice shaking. “It didn’t feel right to me, but he said that was best. And if it wasn’t, I’m sorry, I was only trying to—”

“—Mum,” Ginny said firmly. “It’s okay. I promise.”

She moved to hug Mum, who wrapped Ginny tightly in her arms before bursting into tears.

Right on schedule. Ginny smiled to herself, patting Mum on the back.

“I’m fine; everything is fine,” she said, pulling away from Mum’s strangling grip. “Do I look upset?”

“But you must have worried...” Mum said, reaching into her pocket for her handkerchief and dabbing her eyes.

Ginny shrugged. “Not really. You didn’t have any trouble with Percy. And I’m the favorite, so how bad could it be?”

Even though Mum gave a weary shake of her head at Ginny’s joke, she also smiled, and Ginny knew the hardest part was over.

“So, did you like the magazine?” she asked.

Despite Mum’s head nod, Ginny could see a tightness about her lips.

“What is it?”

“Nothing! Nothing...it’s silly,” Mum said.

But Ginny could guess what was troubling her mother; it was the same fear she’d grappled with since childhood, when her own brother had come out:

How could she make the entire world safe for the people she loved?

“You’re worried about me,” Ginny said softly, trying to keep any judgment from her voice. Of all the ways a mother could respond the news, an overabundance of concern for her safety was far from the worst.

Slowly, Mum met her gaze, her eyes apologetic.

“What you did was wonderful,” she said warmly. “But I don’t want you to be hurt.”

“Well it’s a bit late for that, don’t you think?” Ginny quipped. Mum’s lip began quivering again, and Ginny reached out to grab her hand. “Oh, come on, Mum, it was only a joke...I just meant you and Dad raised us all to stand up for what’s right, to not be afraid. And I’m not afraid. Thanks to you.”

Though still teary-eyed, Mum nodded with resolve. She looked at Ginny and smiled.

“I love you,” she said.

“I love you too, Mum.”

When they pulled away from each other, Ginny caught a glint of curiosity in Mum’s eye.

“Can I ask you something?” Mum said, in that tone of voice that suggested she knew the answer before asking the question. And from the way Mum’s lips were turned up at the corners, Ginny felt sure she knew what the question was.

“Sure,” she said.

“Are you seeing Luna?”

“...yes,” Ginny admitted, feeling her cheeks flush. She searched Mum’s face for any sign of disappointment or anxiety, but all she could find was excitement.

“And?” she pressed.

“ _And_ it’s really new, so don’t go telling everyone, okay?” Ginny teased.

Mum fell back on her heels. “But I can tell your father, can’t I?”

Before Ginny could reply, a rap came from the front door.

“That’ll be George with Angelina…” Mum murmured, turning towards the entryway. Just as quickly, Percy called out that he’d get the door. He sounded almost frantic, and Ginny wondered if he had—after all—forgotten where everything was in the kitchen.

“ _Harry!_ ” Percy’s voice carried in any case, but Ginny was sure he’d intentionally shouted the name. “Wonderful to see you, it’s been too long. How are you?”

Ginny turned sharply to Mum, who had gone pale and rushed over to the window.

“You didn’t tell me he’d be here!” Ginny hissed, coming up behind Mum, who had pulled back the curtain and was peeking through it. Sure enough, there was Harry, still standing on the doorstep.

“I didn’t know!” Mum replied. “Of course, he comes around a few times a week, but usually he sends a note ahead…”

Ginny sighed, standing up straight and facing the entryway.

“It’s fine,” she said. “I need to talk to him anyway.”

“Are you sure?” Mum’s eyes were wide.

“If he’s around as often as you say, we’ll have to talk sometime. Better to get it over with.”

Mum looked dubious about this judgment of the situation. However, she let Ginny lead the way through to the kitchen, where George, Angelina, and Harry were all settling in.

“Ginny!” Angelina exclaimed. “Come here!”  

She drew Ginny into a rough, tight hug before practically tossing her away. She was beaming down at her, and though Ginny was distracted by Harry greeting Mum, she tried to return her smile.

“That magazine!” Angelina said. “How did you even do it? You’re brilliant, all of you. I told George, I want in on whatever you’re doing next. We don’t have to actually be in a same gender relationship, do we?”

Ginny blinked. “I—no.”

“Perfect,” Angelina said. “Just let me know what you need.”

“That’s great, Angelina. Thanks.”

“She’s been talking about it all week,” George said, and Angelina tossed him a look. “Not that that’s a bad thing! I love discussing the debilitating bigotry in our institutions. Nothing quite like it to brace you for the day.”

“He thinks he’s so funny…” Angelina drawled, though she gave George’s arm a squeeze as they sat down. As the room settled, Ginny caught Harry’s eye. He gave her a sort of panicked head nod, then turned abruptly to ask Oliver a question.

Ginny sighed. He was such a _baby_ about these things…

“George,” Percy called, carrying a bowl of dinner rolls. “I think Mum bought these just for you, so could you take them, please? I have to get the chicken before it burns.”

“You’re right,” George said with a smirk as he took the bowl. “I’m the _only_ person here who likes bread.”

“You’re the only person who likes bread with no flavor or texture,” Percy said, arming himself with an oven mitt before heading to the stove.

“Not true!” George protested. “Ginny likes them, don’t you?”

“They’re fine…” Ginny murmured. As George celebrated this partial victory, Ginny made her way over to Harry, who was now staring blankly at the tablecloth. “Can I talk to you?”

Harry, who looked like he might be sick, nodded his head.

“Great,” Ginny said, beckoning him into the sitting room.

“Be right back,” she heard Harry murmur to George. She didn’t bother to look and see anyone’s expression. All that mattered was the long overdue task of mending things with Harry.

“Did you read it?” she asked, not waiting for her nerves to fray.

Harry nodded. He hesitated before saying,  “You could have told me.”

“I couldn’t have, that’s the thing,” Ginny said, trying her best not to take offense at the comment. “I didn’t have the words, back then. I couldn’t have whispered it to myself in the middle of the night, much less tell you it while we were breaking up.”

“Okay,” Harry said, though his gaze had gone a bit hazy. He didn’t understand, and Ginny didn’t expect him to. As long as he listened, as long as he knew she wanted to be friends...that would be enough.

“I know it was confusing for you, but it was confusing for me, too,” Ginny continued. “And I wasn’t trying to lie to you or hurt you.”

“I know that,” Harry said, and now Ginny saw a spark in his eyes. “I didn’t mean that I _needed_ you to explain all of...it’s fine, really. I’m fine.”

Ginny took a breath. “Okay.”

Harry looked around the room, squinting, before catching Ginny’s eye cautiously.

“Seems like it was worth it, to punch that girl in the face,” he said with a smile. Ginny felt the knot in her stomach untie.

“It’s always worth it,” she said. “I thought you knew that?”

Harry laughed. “You’re right.”

“I’m always right,” Ginny said. “I thought you knew that, too.”

For a moment, a kind of grief passed over Harry’s face, and he ducked his head down and rubbed the back of his neck. When he looked up, he was smiling again.

“Where’s Luna?” he asked. “I thought maybe she’d come along. I haven’t seen her in a while...been feeling bad about it, actually.”

_Here we go._

“No,” Ginny sighed. “Tonight was something I wanted to do on my own. She has her own family to deal with, she doesn’t need this lot, too. Not yet, anyway.”

Harry stared at her, a knowing glint in his eye.

“Right,” he said, his mouth twitching.

Ginny crossed her arms in front of her chest, smiling even as her cheeks went hot.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I’m not looking at you like anything!” Harry protested.

“Yes, you are!”

“Well, if I am then I can’t help it, and it’s your fault for bringing it up,” he teased.

“Will you just ask?”

Harry paused, and when he spoke, his voice was quieter than it had been before.

“Are you with her?” he asked.

“Yes.”

Ginny had to give Harry credit. He didn’t flinch at her answer, didn’t show any signs of disappointment. That was one of the nice things about Harry; he wasn’t the sort to moan about something he couldn’t change.

“You know she’s been in love with you since we were in school,” he said.

“Yes, I’ve been told,” Ginny said. “Apparently everyone else knew but me.”

Harry laughed, and—given the circumstances—Ginny was pleasantly surprised at how unforced it sounded.

“I hope it goes well,” he told her. “I really do.”

Though she didn’t need his support, Ginny was certainly glad to have it.

“Thanks, Harry.”

Harry, looking over Ginny’s shoulder, frowned.

“I thought you said Luna wasn’t coming.”

“She isn’t…” Ginny said, following Harry’s gaze out the window behind her. “Oh, shit…”

For there Luna was, striding up the path to the Burrow. She’d ducked her head down because of the wind, so Ginny couldn’t see her expression. However, she couldn’t imagine a scenario where Luna had left her father’s house so quickly because everything had gone well.

“What?” Harry asked, giving Ginny a panicked look.

“She went to see her dad,” Ginny explained. “To talk to him about...everything.”

“Fuck,” Harry whispered, looking back out the window at Luna’s approaching figure before turning back to Ginny with some reluctance. “Do you want me to—”

“—no, it’s fine, I’ll talk to her.”

Harry looked relieved at being discharged of any responsibility for seeing to Luna. He was many things, but a comforting presence wasn’t one of them. He hurried back towards the kitchen while Ginny rushed to meet Luna outside.

“Hey!” she called out, tripping down the porch steps. “What’s going on?”

Luna stopped where she was and waited for Ginny to reach her, her back stiff. She didn’t say anything, and Ginny reached out for her hands.

“What happened?” she murmured.

“He wasn’t happy about it.” Luna’s hair was still flying in her face, and Ginny reached out and brushed a few strands back.

“Oh, Luna, I’m sorry…”

“I’m not sure we’ll be able to use the printing press, anymore,” Luna sounded dazed, and Ginny suddenly understood her mother’s need to snatch people up into strangling embraces.

“That doesn’t matter,” she said. “That’s an easy fix…but are you okay? I mean...do you want to go?”

Luna shook her head.  “I’d rather stay, I think.”

If it had been Ginny, she’d have wanted nothing more than to slink into a hole for the next month. But Luna’s resilience had a shorter lead time than Ginny’s.

Or perhaps she just needed a distraction.

“Okay,” Ginny said. “Harry’s here.”

Luna’s eyes widened, but all she said was:

“That’s nice.”

She tightened her grip on Ginny’s hand.

“You sure you’re okay to go in?” Ginny said, leaning into Luna so their foreheads were almost touching. “We can do our own thing tonight; I really don’t mind.”

Luna smiled. “I know.”

Their kiss was interrupted by the sound of shuffling, rushed footsteps over the path. They pulled away from each other, and Ginny heard Dad exclaim, “oh!” before she caught his eye. She couldn’t tell if it was the shock or the wind that had turned his cheeks red.

“Hi, Dad,” she laughed.

Dad blinked before shaking his head and giving her a somewhat bewildered smile.

“Hello, Ginny…” he said before holding out a hand to Luna. “ And Luna...how are you?”

If Luna found the situation as funny as Ginny did, she didn’t show it, taking Dad’s hand as serious as anything.

“It’s really nice to see you, Mr. Weasley,” she said.

“You as well. And you two are…” he threw Ginny a look, and she nodded, still holding back laughter. “Good, that’s very good…”

He walked past both of them, nodding his head, only stopping to turn around once he’d reached the door.

“Aren’t you coming in?”

Ginny nodded.

“Just a minute.”

When the door had shut behind Dad, Ginny turned back to Luna, whose eyes were shining.

“I’m really sorry about your dad,” Ginny said. “It’s not fair.”

“No, it isn’t,” Luna agreed. “But things do work themselves out, in their own way.”

She smiled at Ginny and took her hand again. Before Ginny could say something flirtatious about going back to what they were doing before the interruption, George poked his head out of the door.

“Hey!” he called out. “We want to eat!”

“I said we were coming!” Ginny exclaimed. George gave a disgruntled sigh and disappeared, leaving the door ajar. “Ready, then?”

And—hand in hand—they clambered up the steps and into the Burrow.

****

> Image Description: A drawing of Ginny and Luna against a yellow background. Luna wears dungarees and has her hair in pigtails. Ginny wears a strapless top and purple skirt. Luna is holding Ginny’s arm, smiling at her, while Ginny faces forward and grins. Art by [showknight](https://showknight.tumblr.com/).

 


	17. Chapter 17

**Rainbows and Resilience: Dumbledore’s Army Gears Up For A Different Type of Battle**

_ Report by Amy July Jackson _

The last two Ministry-led memorials of the Battle of Hogwarts have been somber affairs, and this year’s was no different. I found myself nodding off at about the third speech that told the same sad stories, the same tragic, pouting way. 

Of course, some sobriety is to be expected, given the death toll of You-Know-Who’s Ministry takeover. However, as we at  _ Muggleborn Monthly  _ have said time and again, remembering the past with grief only tells half the story. We must also celebrate the triumphs of that day—and the many days since. 

Thankfully, if the Ministry of Magic is not willing to break out of its navel-gazing melancholy, other prominent figures are stepping in to fill the void. 

After the official ceremony ended—just in time for the Wizengamot’s oldest members to take their afternoon nap—the former members of Dumbledore’s Army met on the grounds of Hogwarts for a private event. Our team was granted exclusive press access to the event, and I am proud to announce that  _ Muggleborn Monthly _ will be partnering with Ginny Weasley and Luna Lovegood’s publication,  _ Our Lives _ . Its final volume this season will feature exclusively Muggleborn witches and wizards...and we have your sneak peek on who might be featured!

This event—filled with young people still fueled with the optimism that comes from defeating an evil they did not cause—provided a stark contrast to the regular doom and gloom we’ve come to expect from May 2nd. In large part, this was due to the overwhelming presence of a symbol made popular by the Weasley/Lovegood branding. 

We’ve seen them on the Quidditch pitch, we’ve noted key Ministry officials wearing them...we’ve even seen them displayed in shop windows across Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade. 

Rainbows. Nearly two thirds of the room were wearing one. Some—like Wizengamot scribe Parvati Patil—treated the symbol as a feature of their outfit. Others went for a more subtle approach—it wasn’t until midway through the event that I noticed the many colored ring on Susan Bones’ finger. But everyone seemed to understand the weight of what it meant. 

“It started as a Muggle symbol, of course,” Luna Lovegood told me. She herself was decked out in a headachingly colorful set of robes that shimmered in the sunlight that leaked through the tent. 

“We tried out different ways of signifying the community, but I think it makes the most sense to keep it consistent with what Muggles use. Most of us have Muggles in our family tree, or just in our lives. The less that divides us, the better. That’s what today is all about.” 

To that end,  _ Our Lives _ has committed its May 14th issue to Muggleborn witches and wizards...with a help of a few more DA friends. 

One such friend is current _ Wendy and the Witch _ comic book artist Dean Thomas, a Muggleborn who tells me that he is assisting in the artwork for the upcoming volume of  _ Our Lives _ . 

“I’m so excited to work with Luna. She does a fantastic job, and her way of capturing expression and human feelings has been what’s drawn people to the stories inside,” Thomas said. “Also, she’s one of the most interesting people in the whole world...her mind works on its own track. I’m so looking forward to seeing where it takes us.” 

And will he and his boyfriend Seamus Finnigan—a public relations intern for the Irish National Quidditch team—feature in the magazine itself? 

“Well...that’d be telling, wouldn’t it?” Thomas tells me with a wink. He’s called over to the bar by Finnegan, and as he shakes my hand, the light hits off of the rainbow band on his wrist. 

Lovegood isn’t the only one who has commissioned assistance with this issue; Ginny Weasley tells me that  _ Muggleborn Monthly _ ’s own junior editor Justin Finch-Fletchley will be contributing some of his interviewing skills. 

“He knows what questions to ask,” Weasley said. “And I really wanted to make sure that we had that insider knowledge—that’s always been one of our priorities, to make sure that whoever we’re talking about is allowed to help guide how they’re talked about.”

Weasley adds that she feels Dumbledore’s Army has always been emblematic of the change she seeks in society. 

“Obviously, we formed to oppose a really specific thing in one way...but the energy we created all those years ago...it’s taken on a life of its own.” 

She believes  _ Our Lives _ has infused its own mission with the values that the DA has held from the very beginning: the principles of equality and justice, particularly as those relate to blood status. 

“It’s all connected, and that’s another thing we’re going to bring up and shed light on. And Justin’s really helped with that.” 

Ginny’s own rainbow comes in the form of a pendant necklace. When I ask her where she found it, Ginny blushes to her ears. 

“It’s my girlfriend’s.” She is referring, of course, to Lovegood. 

Nowhere else in Wizarding Britain do people seem so free about who they are. Patil and girlfriend Lavender Brown keep leaning across the table to kiss one another, their hands clasped tight the entire afternoon. Ginny Weasley keeps one arm wrapped about Lovegood’s waist, even as she talks shop with former boyfriend Harry Potter. Towards the end of the event, Justin Finch-Fletchley and Ernie Macmillan announce that they’re engaged. 

No one celebrating mentions that same-gender marriages are not legally recognized; in fact, no one seems to care. They’ll fight that battle another day. 

And isn’t that what this entire group has come to mean to Wizarding Britain? The belief that persistent hope and a desire to change the world really does make a difference, really does push the needle towards justice and equality?

“We’ll get there,” Ginny Weasley tells me. “We’ll get there, and then we’ll look around, maybe rest for a minute, take it in. And then say: ‘how do we go further?’”


End file.
